


Healing Wounds

by PioneeringAuthor



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Historical References, Non-Graphic Violence, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 09:42:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 67,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4620612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PioneeringAuthor/pseuds/PioneeringAuthor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Throughout her life, Israel has been abused in a dozen different ways. She has learned to fear men, and the wounds on her heart refuse to let her get close to any of them. Suddenly, her views on people begin to change. Will her emotional wounds ever heal? Will she ever overcome her past and step into her future? No gore, profanity or flying purple people eaters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I DO NOT OWN HETALIA, ALL COPYRIGHTS BELONG TO THE CREATOR(S) OF HETALIA.
> 
> I give special thanks to The Scheming Turtle and everyone else who gave me advice on improving this chapter.
> 
> This is my first written fan fiction, and possibly my last. If you have something to say, please say it kindly.
> 
> I did research on history and Hetalia to ensure accuracy to the characters and to the history behind this story.  
> However, I am not flawless; please pardon any inaccuracies you may notice.  
> Also, I apologize to the fans of Ancient Rome-I was trying to be accurate to history, I was not trying to insult him.  
> Please forgive me, but the incident between Rome and Judea actually happened, and I had to be accurate to history.
> 
> Also, please do not hate my story until you have read all the way to the last sentence of the epilogue; it is only fair. When you are done reading, then you may love it or hate it. Also, I would like to hear what your thoughts are. please write me a kind, K rated review. If there is something you do not like, and you wish to inform me of it, please tell me at least one thing you do like about the story as well as the one thing you don't like; please balance all negative comments with positive ones. Also, I tried my best to have excellent grammar and vocabulary, but I am not perfect, so please forgive any errors you notice.
> 
> Thank-you for reading,
> 
> ~+~ PioneeringAuthor ~+~
> 
> P.S. This is the depressing back-story, please do not hate it. YOU MUST READ THIS PROLOGUE TO UNDERSTAND THE CHARACTERS-DO NOT SKIP THIS PROLOGUE! Thank-you.

**PROLOGUE**

She was first wounded during the Third Jewish Revolt in the land of Judea in the ancient empire of Rome. It was not a physical wound, but an emotional wound-a heart wound. This is her story.

Her name is Israel, Northern Israel, commonly referred to as "Israel". Her brother is Southern Israel, commonly referred to as "Judah", named after his father, Judah, who was later known as "Judea". Judea was the son of Jakob, who was re-named Israel, who was the son of Isaac, who was brother to Ishmael, father of the Arabs. Both were sons of Abraham.

It was near the end; they all knew it. Their world was going to change drastically. When the revolt started, it was believed that Bar Kochba was the Jewish Messiah—the one who would restore Israel. After some time an army was amassed at his side to defeat the Romans. Sadly, the Jews were divided. On one side, they believed that Bar Kokhba was the Messiah. As for some others, they believed that Yeshua was the Messiah, and chose not to follow Bar Kokhba. This other group of Jews were the ones who believed Yeshua was the true Messiah, who paid the price for their sins so they could be forgiven, establishing his spiritual kingdom on the earth, and who was coming back one day to physically reign on the earth. Among these believers were the nation of Ancient Judea and his family. He was not an official country anymore—merely a province, but he still mournfully remembered when he was a country. He still recalled those days of independence. As the Revolt started, he knew it was near the end for him.

Although his children were raised in bondage, Judea knew that one day they would be a re-established country of Israel, as predicted in the prophecy ages ago. His children would represent the northern and southern part of the free nation of Israel, one day. As the Jewish revolt began to fail, Ancient Judea knew that soon he would die. Rome would quench the revolt and then come to him to make sure this would never happen again. Judea was convinced of it. He knew Rome would not care whether he, Ancient Judea, was a part of the revolt—Rome would be too angry. At least, Rome's boss would be too angry to care. Bringing both of his children close to his side, Ancient Judea comforted them, saying,

"Listen my children, many people are going to hate you. Many people will torment you and enslave you, but no matter what happens always remember two things: always forgive, and God is good."

Then to his daughter, who represented the northern part of Israel, he said, "May God make you as Sara, Rebecca, Rachel and Leah, and may he remind you every day that you are beautiful. I love you."

Northern Israel started to cry as she told her father that she loved him too. Stroking her head gently, Ancient Judea held her close and did his best to comfort her. Then he pulled his son, who represented the southern half of Israel, close to him and said, "My son, may God make you like Ephraim and Manasseh, and may he strengthen you daily and give you wisdom. My son, when I am gone you will be the man of the house—protect your sister, and comfort her when I am gone. I love you."

Southern Israel hugged his father tightly and nodded. He quietly told his father he would try his best, and that he loved him. After some time of tears, they heard a great noise near the door—the noise of an army. Now it was all over—the revolt failed. It was the third and final Jewish revolt in ancient Rome's land. It seemed that Ancient Judea would perish before the prophecy was fulfilled.

Angered by all the trouble he went through for the past few years with this third revolt, Rome kicked down the door to Ancient Judea's dwelling and demanded to know why Judea's people kept dissenting. Ancient Judea tried to explain that not ALL of his people were insurgents—but Rome didn't want to hear it. To ensure that another Jewish revolt would never happen, Rome forced Israel and Judah to watch as their parents were executed. Before the children had a chance to mourn over their parent's deaths, Rome publicly humiliated and abused them in the streets. He made them his slaves and dragged them out of their house. Rome then destroyed their house, shaved their heads, and took them away. Rome's boss, Hadrian, was especially angered by the revolt, and wiped the name of Judea off the map and replaced it with the name  _Syria Palestina_. Furthermore, Hadrian burned sacred scrolls of Judaism, outlawed  _Torah_ (Jewish law) and did many other horrid things. Rome's boss certainly got revenge for the third revolt.

Meanwhile, Judea's children obeyed Rome's every command. Whenever they didn't work fast enough or hard enough, one of the guards would beat or whip them. Eventually, they received scars. Northern Israel Who was known as "Israel" or "Syria Palestina" by Rome, received a scar sliding down her left eye and cheek, while Southern Israel, who was known as "Judah," had a jagged scar forking down the right side of his face from his eye to his jawline. Although Israel grew into a petite, attractive lady with ice-blue eyes, all she saw in herself were her scars. Judah, on the other hand, ignored his appearance. Over the years, Judah became a rugged, somewhat muscular young man with short dark brown hair. He was handsome, but his gruesome facial scars masked his face, making him appear to be an intimidating, fearsome creature. However, both siblings were pleasant to be around, if they were accepted. Unfortunately, they rarely gained a friend.

Through the years their land was conquered by Islamic empires, then the Crusaders, and then again by an Islamic country. Finally, Ottoman Empire conquered them in 1516 AD. Throughout these events Israel and Judah were scarred, enslaved and insulted repeatedly. Although their masters did not always mistreat them, they still desired their freedom. When Turkey conquered them, he allowed them to follow their religion, but they were still his slaves. Soon after conquering them, he renamed Israel and Judah Northern and Southern Mandatory Palestine. Although Turkey was their overlord, he treated them fairly, and even had conversations with them. It seemed that Israel and Judah were conquered by a better master than before.

Turkey, their master, was olive skinned with brown hair and brown eyes which sometimes looked slightly green. For some unknown reason, Turkey had a habit of wearing a white mask on his face. Strangely enough, his eyebrows showed through his mask, which didn't make any logical sense to anyone…at all. On a different subject, Turkey had two younger brothers: Iraq and Syria. Syria, the younger one, was cheerful, energetic, and looked up to his older brothers. He had darkly tanned skin, black hair, brown eyes, and a humongous grin that seemed to be perpetually on his face. When he was around new people, he would tell them all about his brothers, how strong they were and how he wanted to be just like them when he grew up. Also, he had a beloved pet horse he named "Running". Running was his most prized possession. In fact, Syria loved that stallion so much that he was practically best friends with it. If that horse died, Syria may never recover from it. When he was not with his horse, Syria would spend time with other people, including Israel and Judah. He enjoyed chatting with them and treated them as equals. Sadly, his second oldest brother, Iraq hated Israel and Judah with a burning fury. He never did like them and it seemed he never would. He was always giving them orders and never speaking to them. He considered them the lowest form of life possible. Whenever he looked at them his brown eyes enflamed. Similar to his brothers, he was tan, but not as dark as Syria was or as pale as Turkey was. Many speculated that he had black hair, but no one really knew because he almost always wore something on his head. As the centuries passed, Israel and Judah served their masters and wondered when their house would be restored as God had promised.

One day, while they were going about their daily duties, Turkey informed them that they were going to go to a school with him. It was called the World Academy. When Israel and Judah heard that, they didn't know what to say or think. They had never been to a public or private school before…In fact, they hadn't received any kind of education in decades. A friendly monk had taught them English and some other things during the Crusades, but other than that, they either taught themselves or worked all day long. Suddenly, they were going to go to a place they had never been before, to be taught new things by people they'd never met, and they had no idea what to expect. Nevertheless, they did know two things: they should always forgive, and God is good.

As she prepared to leave, Israel pondered what she would do when she arrived at the school. The wounds on her heart warned her to stay away from men, and prepare for the worst. Indeed, throughout the ages, Israel's emotional wounds would dramatically affect her life. Would they ever heal?


	2. Chapter 1: Beginning of School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I understand that some are annoyed by Gakuen Hetalia stories because they often turn into so-and-so falling in love with a teacher, or some question why the school is in the United States, or some have seen one too many yaoi clubs, hence, there are those who cannot stand Gakuen Hetalia stories. Allow me to dispose of your pet peeves with this:
> 
> According to Hetalia itself, in the unfinished game for Gakuen Hetalia, the high school is in the United States.
> 
> I will repeat: According to the maker of Hetalia, the high school the countries go to is in the United States. (Of course, there is always the chance that the creator has changed his mind, but currently the school is in the US.)
> 
> Hopefully, none reading this will be annoyed by Gakuen Hetalia taking place in the US anymore.
> 
> Also, this story does not involve anyone falling in love with his or her teacher. I have other things in mind.
> 
> Furthermore, there is no yaoi club. I have enough things to speak of in this story.
> 
> Surely by now all the pet peeves are outside this story.
> 
> Now, please enjoy the story, read and review if you wish.
> 
> Oh, one last thing-I'm not sure if there is a Hetalia India, so I made my own.
> 
> By the way, this was originally posted on Fan Fiction . net.
> 
> ~+~ Pioneering Author, the pioneer with a heart for people and a thousand stories to tell ~+~

**Part 1: Gakuen Hetalia**

**Chapter 1**

**Beginning of School**

Israel was walking along the stables, searching for Syria. As she turned a corner, she spotted him with his beloved horse, Running. (When Syria was younger he received the horse as a pet, and he named it Running because it liked to run. Syria was very young when he named his horse.) Walking down the corridor, Israel wondered what Syria would do without his beloved stallion. Calmly she strode towards Syria, her faded, worn, blue-grey skirt almost dragging on the ground with every step. Sunlight streamed through cracks in the roof, illuminating her scarred face and thin black bangs. Indeed, Rome had shaved her head centuries ago, but her hair had slowly grown back. Her bangs were restored to their original length, from her high forehead to the top of her brows. Sadly, the rest of her hair wasn't anywhere near it's original length. At one time it stretched down to her knees, but now it was barely shoulder length. Indeed, it wasn't as long or beautiful as it once was. Before it was silky; now it was coarse. Before it was her crown of glory; now she was ashamed. Of course, nobody could really see it under the white fabric she covered her head with. [In fact, with the way she wore her head covering, from a distance it looked like she had a white ponytail.] Currently, she was not worrying about her hair, instead, she was worrying about Syria. As she neared Syria, Israel could not discern if he was sobbing or talking to his horse. Hugging his stallion's thick, black neck tightly, Syria could not imagine being away from his pet for more than a week, let alone several months at a time. He was having one of the worst days of his life so far. Walking towards Syria, Israel wondered what she could possibly say to comfort him.

"Running, I value you more than anything else I own! I do not know what I am going to do without you!...I—w—w-WILL MISS YOU!" Syria sobbed to his horse as Israel quietly stepped towards him. By now she was only a meter away from him. While Syria wept into his horse's mane, Israel couldn't help but notice that the horse seemed to be hugging the boy as much as the boy was hugging the horse.

"Syria, Turkey says that you need to finish packing," Israel informed him.

Mournfully, Syria turned away from his horse and walked towards Israel. Gazing down at the ground with tear-stained cheeks, Syria hoped that his brothers wouldn't insult him for crying. As Israel and Syria strode through the stables, they could hear Running start to neigh. Syria turned his head back towards Running. The horse was neighing and snorting as if he didn't want his master to leave. Syria said good-bye to his horse and kept plodding along, feeling as if his feet were made of stone. The horse neighed louder as they got farther away. Soon he was tossing his head from side-to-side, as if he was desperate. Syria and Israel kept willing themselves NOT to look back.

When they left the stables, Syria woefully looked at Israel and whimpered, "Do you think my horse will be taken care of while we're gone?"

"I'm sure the other slaves and servants will take excellent care of him, knowing how much you love him," Israel replied reassuringly.

"But, what if someone forgets to give him extra water and he dies of dehydration? Or, what if they don't feed him enough and he dies of starvation? Or, worse yet, what if both things happen and he dies of starved dehydration?" Syria blurted out in a panic.

"I'm sure they will remember to feed and water your horse as they feed and water all of the other horses," Israel calmly stated.

"But, what if they forget? What if they all think someone else is going to care for him and he dies of neglect?" Syria insisted.

"I'm sure they won't neglect your horse because they always have taken good care of him before," Israel pointed out, trying to calm Syria.

"But, Israel, what if he gets a disease? What if a mosquito bites him and he dies of malaria?" Syria wailed, thinking anything that could go wrong would go wrong while he was gone.

Murphy's law probably wasn't thought of at that time, but Syria could have invented it at that moment. True, he had been gone before, but not for more than a few weeks. Now he would be gone for MONTHS! Merely thinking about how long he would be gone from home and his cherished horse tortured Syria immensely. Israel, on the other hand, had lived with foreign masters for so long that she was fine with leaving to a foreign place. Of course, she wasn't entirely sure what she was going to do or how to act, or what to expect, but she was fine with the act leaving itself. In the meantime, Israel was not pondering what school would be like. Instead, she was focusing on how to convince Syria that the world was not going to end for his horse while he was gone. Actually, she was focusing on not laughing while she listened to Syria's worst fears come out. For one thing, Israel questioned if horses could catch malaria or not. She attempted to convince Syria that Malaria was not in their part of the world, and that horses would probably not be affected by it while Syria insisted that his horse would become the first to die of Malaria in the Middle East. Israel insisted that his horse would be perfectly healthy. Syria attempted not to worry. Sadly, he failed miserably. He fretted constantly. When they arrived at the house, Syria started to drag his feet over to his room, but then he saw Turkey.

"TURKEY! Please say I don't have to go! I'm worried about my horse! What if someone doesn't take good care of him? What if he gets lonely and sick? What if an animal eats him?" Syria desperately pleaded with Turkey to convince him to stay, his voice ascending into a wail as he spoke.

As Turkey looked at Syria's tear-stained cheeks, he wondered how to convince Syria that it was fine to leave his horse.

"Syria, your horse will be perfectly fine. The slaves and servants know how to take care of him," Turkey consoled.

"But what if something goes wrong? What if a tree falls on the stable and crushes him? PLEEEEAAASE can I stay here? I already know about math and science and all that—I don't need to go to school!" Syria implored desperately.

"I'm sorry, Syria, but my boss says that ALL of us need to go sooner or later—it's supposed to promote world peace and EVERYONE is required to go, whether or not they like it. You won't be the only homesick one there, trust me. Besides, I'm sure you'll learn plenty of new things—after all, nobody knows EVERYTHING, and I'm sure you'll make plenty of friends there, and as for your horse, don't worry! There are no trees near the stables that are going to fall down on your horse, and he will be taken well care of, so you have nothing to worry about!" Turkey responded cheerfully. Despite Turkey's words, Syria was upset and stared woefully at Turkey.

"I think it will be torture," Syria replied, "and I won't be homesick—I'll be HORSESICK!"

"Syria, don't take that tone of voice with me," Turkey warned, "and at least TRY to think positively while you finish packing."

"…I will consider it," Syria sighed as he stomped off to his room. Turkey sighed as Syria left, wondering how he was supposed to make his brother feel better. When he noticed Israel standing a few paces away, he smiled at her. After Syria was out of earshot, Turkey strode over to Israel and asked, "Should I convince you that the horse you don't really have is going to be fine?"

Israel chuckled with Turkey.

"No, thank-you, I'm convinced that my horse is safe, especially since he doesn't exist," she replied quietly.

They both giggled. Turkey gazed at Israel cheerily while she looked at the ground timidly. After centuries of horrible mistreatment from men, Israel feared them and rarely looked them in the eye, except for a rare few. While Israel looked at her worn sandals, Turkey noticed that her head covering was slipping off. Reaching out to her, Turkey said he would straighten her scarf for her. Israel stiffened as Turkey tugged on her head covering. In her experience, whenever someone besides her brother touched her, it was unforgettably painful, and she had scars to remind her of that. Thankfully, Turkey merely wanted to adjust the fabric on her forehead, nothing more. After he finished fixing the scarf, he brushed Israel's black bangs with his fingertips, sweeping them away from her ice-blue eyes.

"There, now you look better!" Turkey declared happily.

Israel relaxed and nodded thankfully.

"When do we leave? Tomorrow?" She inquired.

"First thing in the morning," Turkey answered, "Don't worry about it!" With that said, he left, wondering if Syria would ever be comforted about leaving his horse.

Israel tried not to worry as the day passed. They traveled by boat from Turkey's house to New York City, in the United States of America. As soon as they stepped off the ship, Turkey told everyone to speak in English as long as they were here.

"Why?" Syria asked; they had always spoken in Arabic or Turkish at home.

"This is America—Everyone is supposed to speak English around here," Turkey explained.

"Oh…" Syria said.

"You all know English, correct?" Turkey asked, looking around at his group.

Everyone nodded. After they nodded, Turkey realized that he should have asked that question _before_  they arrived in the United States. Meanwhile, Israel reminded herself of all the English words she knew. It had been so long since she used it that she almost panicked at the thought of publicly speaking it. Thankfully, the words were slowly returning, so she had not entirely forgotten it... Turkey led the group into the city, thinking it would be easy to follow the directions his boss left for him. Of course, it was not anywhere near easy to find the school. After wandering around, wondering where on earth they were going, they figured out where on earth they were going to and miraculously found the school. Indeed, they finally figured out where the school was, after two hours of searching. (Okay, it wasn't a miracle, happy now?)

Arriving at the school, Turkey proudly proclaimed in English, " _See, I told you it was right around the corner_!"

"'Corner'—HA! You've been leading us all around the city for much too long! I told you we should have hired someone to take us here! Of course, nobody listens to me, now do they?" Iraq retorted grumpily in Arabic.

" _Turkey, you know I admire you very much, but I think Iraq is right_ ," Syria admitted wearily in English.

"Fine, next time I'll get someone to take us here, happy? Now, let's walk into the building, and try not to be grumpy, and speak in English as often as possible," Turkey said in Arabic, eyeing Iraq.

Iraq nodded. From then on, they mainly spoke in English.

When Israel saw the school, she was awe-struck. The school was an enormous complex with an east and west wing. Some parts looked to be three or four stories tall. Neatly centered between the wings was a clock tower archway. Perhaps it was also a bell tower, but it was hard to tell from a distance. There was a lengthy walkway leading up to the archway, surrounded by tiny shrubs bordering the lawn. Nearing the school, Judah wondered who designed it and why they chose to construct it that way. At the same time, Israel wondered how long it took the builders to finish. As they neared the complex, Israel began to fret about what her day-to-day life would be, and then stopped herself by admiring the buildings.

Syria was also admiring the building, until Turkey's words hit him like a rock: "…Next time I'll get someone to take us here…" Syria did not want a next time!

"WAIT! Turkey, did you mean that we might leave home again, and come here again, and leave my horse behind, AGAIN?" Syria demanded, hoping he was wrong.

Turkey nodded and said, "Yes, didn't you know that? We will be coming to this place a few years in a row, and return home during the summer."

Shocked beyond words, Syria zoned out.

Turkey turned to Judah and said, "Judah, poke him a few times and he'll snap out of it, then come join us."

Wishing he could find a way to console Syria, Turkey led the others through the arch as Judah gently whispered into Syria's ear, "Turkey's leaving."

Instantly Syria snapped into reality and cast about, looking for his brother. Spying Turkey's green coat disappearing through the archway, Syria dashed forward to catch up. Judah grinned. He knew how much Syria wanted to be like Turkey, and he was glad his idea worked. As Judah followed, a gentle breeze played with his dark brown hair, fluffing and smoothing it at the same time. Judah was grateful for the wind, but he wondered how cold it would be during autumn. He had a feeling he wouldn't like it when winter arrived. When the group walked beneath the archway, they stared in amazement at the huge courtyard, which was framed by the rest of the school. Indeed, this complex could house representatives from every nation. Looking around, Turkey's next item on the agenda was figuring out where the front door was. Thankfully, someone happened to walk by them into the front door right at the precise moment they needed someone to walk through the front door.

"That must be it!" Turkey decided, walking towards the door.

"This better be it," Iraq mumbled, tired of trudging around from place to place. Entering the school, the group gazed around the entrance admiringly.

People hustled and bustled everywhere, some dragging suitcases, some talking, others laughing, and most looking as exhausted as Israel and the others felt. Looking around at everyone, Israel wondered who they were and where she was supposed to go next. Suddenly, a blonde-haired man noticed and stepped towards them. He was wearing a white collared shirt with a green tie, with a dark blue vest and bright blue jacket layered on top. To Israel, the most striking thing about his outfit were his indigo-plaid pants. She could not remember the last time she saw plaid, if ever. However, as she looked around, she saw most of the men there were wearing outfits similar to the blonde heading towards them. Apparently, it was a uniform. The ladies had their own matching uniforms, but with red plaid miniskirts instead of indigo leggings. Israel hoped against hope that she did not have to wear one of those skirts. Never before had she worn something so short, and she wasn't planning on starting now. Meanwhile, the blonde man continued to walk towards them. Turkey advanced with his group. As they neared the blonde man, Israel noted how green his eyes were and how unusually thick his eyebrows were. She hadn't seen a blonde person in quite a long time, and she was intrigued by him.

"England! I haven't seen you in such a long time! How are you feeling?" Turkey greeted the man cheerfully.

"I am feeling well, Turkey. Who are these people with you?" England asked. Considering the fact that Turkey attempted to conquer Europe, England was confused when he heard Turkey's cheerful greeting. As he noticed the people around Turkey, England wondered who they were and why they were with Turkey.

"These are my adopted brothers, Iraq and Syria, and these are some of my territories, Northern and Southern Mandatory Palestine," Turkey introduced his group to England.

"Ah…I see, I should have guessed. Anyway, I am the student council president and you must heed what I say, understand?" England ordered. Israel understood what he said, but had some trouble getting through his accent.

"We understand," Turkey answered casually.

"Excellent, now, we need to get your uniforms and have you unpack in your dorm rooms. I'll—"

"You'll what, Britain? Pull them out of a hat?" Another blonde man, who clearly despised him, rudely interrupted England. His shoulder-length hair glowed in the light from the chandelier. Stepping close to England, the man smirked, thinking of all the ways to upset England. Israel wondered how old his human age was, considering he was visibly older than most people. Israel wondered if it was the stubble on his chin that made him look aged…

"No, France, I was not going to say that, you frog," England retorted. Obviously, he despised France.

"Frog? Well, whether or not I am a frog you are still the worst choice for student council president in the entire world!" France shot back at England. Clearly, the hatred was mutual.

Israel and Judah stared at each other, unsure if they should say something. Turkey looked at them as if he was saying, "They argue all the time—just let them be."

"Well, France, I am the president, and you're the vice president, and that's final!" England blurted out, trying not to get furious in front of the new students. France took another step towards England and spat, "Whether or not you're the president I'll—I don't believe it…" France trailed off as something behind Israel caught his attention. His face softened from anger to disbelief and confusion.

"You don't believe what?" England growled while his back faced whatever France was seeing. Without shifting his gaze, France grabbed England, turned him around, and with one arm outstretched pointed and exclaimed, "I don't believe that!"

England's face instantly converted from fury to shock as he whispered, "I don't believe it either…"

By this time Israel and the others in her group simply had to see what it was they were seeing.  
Turning around, Israel spotted a man entering the building. He was fair-haired, and wore a white beret and a green military uniform.  
With one hand he carried a heavy sack over his shoulder while with the other he held the door open. When Judah saw him walk through the door, he had a strange feeling that he should pay attention to this man, as if there was something important about him that Judah was going to find out. Judah pondered why. A few moments later, a blonde girl walked through the door. She wore an indigo ribbon in her hair and a red long-sleeved dress. She, too was carrying a bag in her hands, and had the same chin-length bob as the young man who was holding the door for her. Smiling at the young man, the girl appeared to be his younger sister. In fact, they looked so similar that Israel would have assumed they were twins, if only the girl had been taller. Israel contemplated who they were. Meanwhile, England and France knew exactly who they were.

"I can't believe he's actually here!" England breathed.

"Me either," France agreed while lowering his hand and letting go of England.

Swaggering over to the man who just entered the building, England said smugly, "Well, it seems as if you couldn't skip school forever, Switzerland."

"Liechtenstein wanted to come, so I came with her," The man with the white beret replied with a scowl. Obviously, he did not want to be there at all. However, the young lady with him was smiling with happiness. Clearly, she was happy about something.

England shifted his gaze from the man with the hat to the girl.

"Good day, Liechtenstein, did you drag your brother here or did he drag you?" England asked teasingly.

With a smile the girl replied, "Oh, I didn't drag him, I just told him my boss wanted me to come here, and that I wanted to go, so he went with me."

 _I knew they were siblings!_  Israel thought triumphantly while the girl spoke.

 _I have a feeling they aren't actually related…Yet, they look so similar, it is hard to believe that they are not siblings…_  Judah puzzled to himself as the girl finished speaking.

"Well, now that you are here, I suppose we should get you to your rooms, and get some uniforms for you," England said as he turned away from them.

"I'll be back in a minute," England informed them as he stepped down the hall, searching for someone.

By this time, Syria was getting very inquisitive, and started wandering around, observing the floors, people, walls, and anything else that caught his interest. Iraq leaned against the wall, impatiently wondering how long he was supposed to wait. At the same time, Turkey started conversing with some of the students nearby. Israel and Judah looked at each other, wondering what they were supposed to do.

Meanwhile, France was eyeing Israel.  
She seemed vaguely familiar, yet he couldn't remember where he saw her. He studied the scar on her face and wondered how she received it. He pitied her. On the one hand, he wanted to strut over to her and strike up a conversation, while on the other hand, her scar intimidated him, and he wondered if she had a terrible temper.

Near the entrance of the school, Switzerland and Liechtenstein were speaking quietly. Judah looked at them and kept asking himself what it is that he was supposed to see in this man. Why did Judah have a feeling that this man was highly important? He could not grasp it.

Meanwhile, Israel admired the marble floor, fearing to look at anyone. There were far too many men in the immediate vicinity for her to safely look around. After contemplating whether or not to talk to her, France decided that he would. Striding over to Israel, France introduced himself to her. For a brief moment, Israel looked at him, noted how blue his eyes were, and then looked away. Judah focused on France. He knew France was up to something, and he didn't trust him.

"My name…is Northern Mandatory Palestine, but…most people…call me Israel," Israel introduced herself, trying hard to remember the right words to use. "This my brother, Southern Mandatory Palestine...most call him Judah," Israel finished, indicating her brother. Judah nodded in greeting.

"Tell me, have we met before?" France asked her.

Listening to France, Israel realized that his accent was similar to how she spoke in her native language… when she had a native language, that is.  
At one time, she spoke Hebrew, but over the centuries, her language almost completely died out due to her people being scattered everywhere and foreigners constantly taking over her land. However, in recent years, something was happening—she was remembering more Hebrew words. Whenever she remembered one, she wrote it down.

Of course, France was speaking English—not Hebrew—but the way he pronounced it reminded her of the way she spoke her language. As she listened to him, she was fascinated by his accent. When France finished speaking, Israel carefully mentally translated her response from Arabic into English, but it was quite challenging, considering she could only remember a fraction of the English she learned in the Medieval period.

"I…know not," Israel answered slowly, hoping she was saying that correctly.

France gazed at her, trying hard to remember where he saw her before, if he had seen her before.

"Tell me, why have I not seen you more often?" France inquired.

"I…not allowed travel much," Israel answered.

As Israel spoke, France noticed her accent was similar to his. This made him even more intrigued by her.

"Why, an attractive young lady like you should be able to go wherever she pleases," France crooned flirtatiously as he began to caress her face. Israel stiffened under his touch.

Thankfully, Judah batted away France's hand as soon as he touched her.

France stared at Judah disbelievingly.

"I was gently touching her—why did you do that?" He asked indignantly.

"She is not that kind of lady," Judah answered sternly.

Taken aback, France scowled at him and retorted, "I was just touching her, nothing else."

Iraq watched the conversation unfold. He hoped that a fight would ensue and Judah would be punished.

Nearby, Switzerland shifted his gaze to France, wondering what just happened.

"I wonder who they are," Liechtenstein said to her brother quietly.

"I know not, but it appears that France is pestering them," Switzerland whispered as he watched them.

Meanwhile, Judah calmly looked at France, as if he was saying, "That's the point—You shouldn't be touching her."

Israel hid behind her brother as the two young men eyed each other. Judah reassuringly held Israel's arm. France looked at him, waiting for Judah to say something. Of course, he didn't know that Judah was a firm believer in "actions speak louder than words," and he didn't realize that Judah was intentionally speaking only with his eyes. France grew impatient. After what seemed to Israel like a hundred years of waiting, France finally stepped away from them.

"Fine, you don't want me here—Then I'll leave!" France declared as he flipped his hair off his shoulders and stormed away.

Israel sighed with relief. Resting her head on her brother's shoulder, Israel breathed a thank-you to him. Judah gently kissed his sister on her head. It was his way of saying that she would be safe now. After France left, Iraq stepped down one of the halls, looking for Syria. After a few moments, Israel straightened up, wondering what was going to happen next.

Finally, England (who was also known as Great Britain or the United Kingdom) returned with someone walking behind him.

"Everyone this—where is everyone?" England was about to introduce the man with him, and then he saw that Syria, Turkey and Iraq were missing.

Israel stared at the ground, afraid to say anything. Judah looked around, and then pointed down the hall where Iraq and Syria disappeared.

England sighed, turned to the dark-haired man with him and said, "I think you better go find Turkey and his brothers."

The dark-brown haired man nodded, straightened his glasses, and calmly walked away. Israel looked at him as he strode away, and noticed that he had one curl of hair standing up above his face. Her organized side had the inner urge to pin it down with something so it would be uniform with the rest of his hair. Of course, she restrained herself.

Eventually, Turkey's group was re-formed and England introduced the dark-haired man as Austria, who was instructed to lead them to their dorm rooms. Straightening his glasses, Austria nodded and motioned with his hand for the others to follow him. They walked down hallway after hallway, turned corner after corner, and FINALLY reached the double doors leading to the men's dorm. Austria halted. Turning around, he looked at Israel and Liechtenstein and informed them that they would have to wait at the doors until he came back for them. The two girls nodded understandingly. Switzerland looked at Liechtenstein and told her that he would see her later. She smiled at him and nodded as the group of boys entered their dorm. Israel sighed deeply. She hoped that she wouldn't be separated from her brother for too long. As Judah walked through the door, he kept wondering what it was about Switzerland that made him important to Judah. Austria led them to an intersection in the dorm where he handed Turkey and his brothers some papers showing which rooms they were assigned. Meanwhile, all around them young men hustled and bustled.

After Turkey and his brothers walked down one hallway, Austria studied his list, trying to find Switzerland and Judah. Meanwhile, Judah scanned the hallways, noting all the different young men walking to and fro and chatting together. They were all speaking English, but each one had a different accent. Judah was amazed at how unique and similar everyone was. He also noticed how many of them were fair-haired. Where Judah came from, most people were brown or black haired, but here there were many different shades and colors. In fact, there were even some who appeared to be white-haired.

While Judah was wondering how those people became white-haired, Switzerland was becoming more and more impatient with Austria. Indeed, Switzerland hated being there, and he especially could not tolerate Austria. At one time they were friends, but that was the past. Currently, Switzerland denied ever being friends with Austria. Also currently, he was speculating as to why Austria was taking so long to tell them where his room was. If only he knew how impacting Austria's room assignment sheet would be for him, he might have been more patient. Austria carefully scanned his sheet. Finally, he found the names he was looking for.

"Oh, this is interesting…" Austria quietly stated.

"What is?" Switzerland snapped impatiently.

Looking at Switzerland, Austria calmly explained, "Oh, well, I don't remember being in a situation like this before—that's all."

"What situation?" Switzerland interrogated him with a snarl.

"Well, usually I escort unrelated roommates one at a time due to the fact that they arrive separately, but you two happened to arrive at the same time, even though you live in different parts of the world," Austria clarified, hoping that Switzerland would understand how strange the situation was.

"Who is my roommate?" Switzerland demanded, throwing his free arm into the air while his mint-green eyes blazed in anger.

Austria studied his list one last time before answering, "Southern Mandatory Palestine—'Judah'- he's right beside you."

Switzerland turned to Judah. For the first time since he arrived, Switzerland actually studied Judah. Judah's name and tan informed Switzerland that he was Middle-Eastern, but his bright blue eyes contradicted that information. Indeed, Judah's blue eyes puzzled Switzerland.  
Scrutinizing the scar on Judah's face, Switzerland wondered if he was hot-tempered.  
Switzerland sized up Judah, noted how rugged he was, and perceived that he was a subordinate nation by his worn black pants and long-sleeved shirt. As he scanned Judah, Switzerland spotted unusual fringes hanging from the edge of Judah's shirt. Realizing the fringes hung from something underneath Judah's shirt, Switzerland wondered why he wore them. Then he noticed that Judah was slightly taller than he, and that Judah had dark brown hair. Apparently, Judah was wearing something on his head. It was a perfectly round piece of fabric, too small to be named a hat, but large enough to be considered in the hat family. (Switzerland didn't know this, but the hat was called a  _Kippah_.)

Abruptly, it struck Switzerland how unusual the circumstance was—he lived thousands of kilometers away from where Judah was, and, curiously, they happened to arrive at the school simultaneously, and were assigned the same room. When Judah heard that the man next to him was his roommate, he understood the strange feeling he had earlier that told him to pay attention to Switzerland. He could tell by Switzerland's pale skin and accent that he was European. He saw the white beret Switzerland wore atop his blonde hair and wondered if he wore it for religious or personal reasons. Studying Switzerland, Judah noted the buttons on his green military coat and how evenly the top edges of his boots were folded down.

"Well, your room is straight ahead, three doors down on the left. You may unpack there and then wait until someone gives you your uniforms. I apologize for the lack of organization, but tomorrow is the first day of school and everything seems to be going wrong all at once," Austria informed them apologetically while handing Switzerland a slip of paper with their room number written on it.

Switzerland scowled and nodded distrustfully. Judah nodded understandingly. Austria departed. Briskly Switzerland walked down the hallway, found the room, and entered. Judah quietly followed. Without asking Judah which bed he desired, Switzerland stomped over to one and tossed his bag onto it. After that, he glowered at Judah and instructed him to keep his belongings to the other side of the room. Judah humbly nodded and calmly placed his sack on the other he was used to people ordering him, Judah was unruffled by Switzerland's behavior. Besides, Judah was unconcerned with sleeping arrangements.

Switzerland and Judah began to unpack their possessions. Since Switzerland was highly frugal, he packed only what he deemed absolutely necessary, and finished unpacking quickly. Closing his dresser drawer, Switzerland re-examined his bag and found it empty. He lounged on his bed, impatiently pondering what he was supposed to do next. Casually he glanced over at Judah and noted how methodically he was unpacking. He watched as Judah unloaded his last item—a scroll with an exquisitely embroidered velvet cover. As Judah picked up the scroll, he cradled it as if it was a baby, and tenderly lowered it into the bottom drawer of his dresser. He shut the drawer so gently it was silent. Switzerland wondered why he treated the scroll with such honor. He was suspicious of Judah's odd behavior and began to scowl at the door while he waited for someone to give him his uniform.

Judah rested on his bed and glanced at Switzerland. He decided to properly introduce himself.

"I am Southern Mandatory Palestine, commonly known as 'Judah,'" He said to Switzerland.

Looking over at Judah, Switzerland replied with, "Switzerland."

Judah nodded, as if he was saying, "Pleased to meet you." Meanwhile, Switzerland suspiciously stared back at him and curtly nodded.

After a few minutes of silence, Judah asked, "Do you have siblings?"

Switzerland looked at Judah and replied, "An adopted little sister—and you?"

"Blood sister," Judah answered and continued with, "Your sister, is she the girl you entered with?"

"Yes—Liechtenstein," Switzerland acknowledged while looking away, his gaze and temper softening as he spoke of his darling sister.

Inwardly Judah triumphed that he was right—Switzerland wasn't related to the girl by blood. He also detected how deeply Switzerland cared for his sister, even though they were technically unrelated.

"Is your sister the girl with the head scarf?" Switzerland inquired as he glanced at Judah. Judah nodded.

"I thought so," Switzerland acknowledged quietly. A few more minutes elapsed. Finally, Judah stood up and asked, "What are we to do?"

"Wait," Replied Switzerland.

"Are we allowed to explore?" Judah inquired, sensing that Switzerland preferred to be alone.

"I suppose," Switzerland said while staring at the ceiling. Judah glanced at Switzerland, and then exited the room.

Meanwhile, Israel and Liechtenstein were being escorted to their rooms. Austria led them through a maze of hallways and doors, and finally found the women's dorm. Entering the dorm, Austria scanned the area, trying to find the right way to travel. When he found the right hallway, he briskly walked down it and stopped near the middle.

"Liechtenstein, your room is four doors down on the right. Israel, your room is here on my left," Austria pointed out the different rooms to the ladies.

"Thank-you, Mr. Austria," Liechtenstein said.

"You're welcome, now go unpack, get acquainted with someone, and wait for your uniforms," Austria instructed. The girls nodded as he turned and walked away.

"It was pleasant meeting you, Miss Israel," Liechtenstein said.

"It was pleasant meeting you as well," Israel agreed with a smile. While the two girls had waited outside the men's dorm for Austria, they had introduced themselves and started up a conversation. They got along rather splendidly together. Liechtenstein smiled at Israel and then walked to her room.

"Is Austria gone?" Someone asked Israel.

Turning around, Israel saw a brown-haired woman standing behind her. The woman's green eyes were filled with hope and anxiety as she repeated her question to Israel.

"Yes, he left recently," Israel answered.

The woman sighed in disappointment and stamped her foot on the ground. She was wearing the school girl's uniform—a short-sleeved white shirt with a red plaid mini-skirted jumper and a blue tie, complete with stockings and black shoes. Israel hoped that she would be allowed a longer skirt and wondered if Austria was related to the woman, considering how flustered she was at having missed him. The woman stared at the ground for a second before looking up at Israel and introducing herself as Hungary. Israel introduced herself while admiring Hungary's long, flowing hair. Remembering the days when her hair was as gorgeous as Hungary's was, Israel sighed inwardly, and began to feel depressed. She wondered if her hair would ever be close to being lovely again.

"Are you feeling well?" Hungary questioned Israel with concern.

Looking up at Hungary, Israel replied with, "Am fine, worry not."

Outwardly she seemed fine, but inwardly she knew she lied. There were emotional scars on her heart that told her she never would be fine, because she never would be beautiful like the young lady before her, and the scars on her skin echoed her heart. She would act fine, but she did not feel fine. Hungary believed the lie.

"All right, I thought you seemed upset about something…By the way, I hope you don't mind my asking, but, how did you get that scar?" Hungary inquired slowly, afraid of offending Israel.

"It was long time ago…Rome killed my parents and enslave me, soon I got the scar…After, I got others," Israel admitted.

Hungary's green eyes filled with sorrow and pity.

"I'm…I'm sorry…I don't have my parents any more either, but I don't remember them dying…And I wasn't enslaved by anyone…I'm sorry you had to go through that," Hungary offered sorrowfully, realizing how blessed she was to have a gentler past.

"Thank-you, but you not kill my parents; you need not have to apologize," Israel replied in broken English. She tried to speak properly, but it was hard since her emotions were fighting her voice and since she could barely remember English.

"Oh…Anyway, who's your roommate?" Hungary changed the subject quickly.

"I know not yet," Israel answered, gaining better speech.

"Well, I'm sure she's nice, whoever she is!" Hungary declared cheerily, "I have to go now, see you later, Israel!"

With that said, Hungary trotted off, her long hair bouncing on her back. It was painful for Israel to see such soft, lovely hair, especially since hers was dry and stiff. For a few moments, Israel watched the girls around her walk from one place to the other. Many smiled at her, with a look of compassion in their eyes.

Hoping that no one would notice her scar, Israel studied the floor as she walked into her room. Opening the door, Israel was instantly greeted with a cheerful, "Are you my roommate?" As she looked up, Israel saw a darkly tanned woman with a long black braid wearing a bright red sari standing before her. Israel had never seen a sari before, although she did know what one was.

"If this is room F23, then yes," Israel quietly answered.

"IT IS!" The woman exclaimed joyfully.

Pressing her two palms together and bowing her head at Israel, the woman quickly greeted Israel with "Namaste," and then her words came rushing out in a bubbling river of happiness.

"I arrived here about a week ago, and I thought I was the only person in the world without a roommate—But now you are here! I'm so delighted to finally meet you! Now I don't have to be alone! Tell me, what is your name? Where are you from? What's your religion? I am Hindu! Do you have any siblings—oh, by the way, I'm India, one of Britain's colonies, or is it territories? Ah, I forget!" Her huge brown eyes were sparkling with excitement as she chatted, wanting to know everything about her new roommate.

Relieved that her roommate was a friendly soul, Israel relaxed with a smile. Inwardly she chuckled at how many questions India asked and was grateful to have such a talkative roommate.

"I…am Northern Mandatory Palestine, but most people call me 'Israel'. I…am Middle-Eastern, and I am a devout Jew who believes Yeshua is the Messiah. I have one brother—He represents Southern Mandatory Palestine, but most call him Judah. I am one of Turkey's subordinates," Israel slowly explained, remembering as much English as possible.

"Oh, so you are Turkey's territory—I've met him. I am not sure if he scares me or makes me laugh. *Giggles excitedly* Anyway, I have met other Jews before and gotten along very nicely with them—I'm sure we'll become great friends! May I assist you in unpacking?" India's words rushed out in her joy.

"You may help me if you want, but you shall not have to," Israel accepted, not wanting to be bothersome.

India joyfully bounced around helping Israel unpack, talking the entire time. India asked Israel many questions, but never once inquired about her scar, wishing not to offend or upset her new roommate.

Meanwhile, Judah paced, wandering around the halls of the men's dorm pondering what to do. As he neared his doorway for the third or fourth time, he spotted a young, blonde man leaning against the wall a short distance away from Judah's room. Judah felt that he should talk to him. He ambled over and leaned his back on the wall beside the blonde man. Judah observed the blonde man. He had shoulder-length blonde hair and green eyes. He was wearing the standard men's uniform with a tan sweater and a blue tie, but he wasn't wearing the blue jacket. His pale-skinned hands clutched an antique book to his chest. Judah couldn't read the title—the letters were English but the words weren't. Judah speculated what the book was about. He also speculated why the pale-skinned man was standing there, staring at the ground solemnly.

"I am called 'Judah', but my official name is Southern Mandatory Palestine," Judah introduced himself.

The man shifted his gaze towards Judah, his green eyes filled with anxiety.

"I…I'm Poland…Like, that is all I'm called…Yeah," The blonde-haired man introduced himself shyly.

Although Poland was usually energetic and talkative, he didn't know who Judah was, and he was missing his best friend, hence he was quiet.

However, The moment Judah heard Poland say his name he felt a faint burst of energy surge through him.

 _Poland, this is Poland…_  Judah thought.

Over the centuries, Judah heard news of country after country tormenting his people or casting them out of their borders, and then there was Poland. Whenever Judah heard about Poland, it was usually something good. Poland accepted the Jews. Instead of forcing Jews to wear something to signify their Jewishness as an insult, Poland allowed them to wear what they pleased. Poland published the first Yiddish book. The first Hebrew Jewish printing house was in Lublin, Poland. Poland even allowed the establishment of the first Jewish university.

Sadly, when Poland's house was divided between Russia, Prussia, and Austria, the Jews lost all of the privileges Poland gave them. Nevertheless, Poland had still been kind to them at one time. For many decades Judah desired to meet Poland, and now he finally had. He determined to better acquaint himself with Poland. Judah pondered what to speak.

"I'm glad to finally meet you," Judah acknowledged.

Poland shyly glanced at him from the corner of his eye and replied, "It's…nice to meet you too..." Staring back at the ground, Poland realized what Judah said, and shifted his gaze back to Judah.

"Wait…do you mean that, like…you've been wanting to meet me for a while? Like, why would you want to…meet me?" Poland pried curiously.

"You have been good to my people for centuries; thank-you," Judah gratefully answered.

Initially, Poland was puzzled. Subsequently he noticed the fringes Judah was wearing and the  _kippah_  on his head. Then he realized Judah was Jewish. Why Poland didn't figure that out when Judah said his name was 'Judah', is a matter unknown.

"Umm…Right…You're, like, Jewish, right?" Poland asked timidly, wanting to make sure he was right.

Judah nodded calmly.

"Oh… I totally should have noticed that earlier," Poland replied.

A few minutes of silence passed.

"Who are you waiting for?" Judah inquired.

"My friend…I don't think he'll get to come here, though," Poland answered somberly.

"Why?" Judah responded.

"He's, like, a slave…and his master, like, didn't let him come last year…." Poland explained with a sigh. Gazing at the ground again, Poland seemed hopelessly downhearted.

Clearly, Poland was missing his best friend.

Judah encouragingly placed a hand on Poland's shoulder and said, "Don't stop hoping."

Poland stared at him sorrowfully, a faint glimmer of hope in his green eyes.

"Tomorrow is the first day of school, and today is almost gone—like, what makes you so optimistic?" Poland questioned.

"The day isn't over yet," Judah observed.

Poland straightened up, realizing Judah was right.

"You're right, like, he could still arrive!" Poland perked up instantly.

Poland eyed the entrance to the dormitory, hope sparking within him once again. Suddenly, the doors opened and a group of young men entered. The tallest one looked down on the others, literally, and seemed to be giving them orders. He had white hair and a long scarf. After speaking, he left down another hallway. As he left, he unblocked one of the boys he entered with. Poland's eyes lit up with glee.

" _LIIIIEEET_!" He lilted excitedly as he rushed towards the group of boys by the door.

The center one, who had earlier been blocked by the tall one, began to smile and walk towards Poland cheerily.

"Poland!" The boy exclaimed with his arms outstretched. In a few moments the boys were hugging.

 _"Liet!_  I, like, was so worried that Russia wasn't going to let you come, like, again! Oh my gosh, I'm so glad that you're, like, really here!" Poland piped joyfully, his green eyes surging with new energy.

The other boy, whose eyes were also green, grinned and said calmly, "Well, he did! I'm glad to see you, old friend."

"I'm glad to see you too—oh, here's the book you left at my house!" Poland exclaimed while handing the book to his friend.

The boy's eyes widened as he took the book.

"I've been looking for this for so long, how did you find it?" He asked Poland.

"I was just going through some things and I found it!" Poland explained. The two boys walked down one hallway together, chatting merrily, while the other boys at the door looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, and walked down another hallway. Judah grinned peacefully. He was glad that Poland's friend came. As he thought about what just happened, Judah wondered if he would ever have a friend as close to him as those two boys were. He began to pace around the halls again, considering what to do next.

Eventually, Judah and Israel did receive their uniforms. Judah put on his uniform and spent about fifteen minutes attempting to tie his tie before Switzerland reluctantly assisted him. Israel was a different story. When she tried on her uniform, the first thing she spotted was how short the skirt was. Not only was it immodest for her, but it also showed the grizzly scars on her thighs. She put on her normal outfit and exited the bathroom, declaring that she couldn't wear it. India looked at her understandingly.

"I don't blame you! I'm not wearing my uniform until school starts because it is entirely NOT my style! This sari is much more comfortable than those uniforms!" India ejaculated with a wave of her hand.

"No, it not that—it is immodest for me to wear something showing my thighs," Israel clarified quietly and quickly.

"Oh…I understand-I don't like it either," India instantly agreed.

Hungary was nearby and said, "Well, all the other girls are wearing them."

"I am not the other girls; I have…standards that I must hold to no matter what," Israel firmly replied.

India gazed at her admiringly while Hungary stared at the ground with a twinge of guilt in her eyes.

"Well, perhaps we can adjust it for you!" India offered with a smile.

Looking up, Hungary objected with, "I'm not sure if we're allowed to alter the uniform…"

"Well, why don't we ask? It's about time someone said something about these uncomfortable uniforms anyway!" India declared, gently taking Israel's folded uniform.

"I suppose you have a point... But I don't think the uniforms are that uncomfortable," Hungary casually parried.

"Well, I'm not you, am I?" India retorted as she began to walk towards the dormitory entrance.

Israel smiled at India's boldness—she was not afraid to express her opinion. Israel wondered if India would express her opinion as freely around men as she did around women. Following India and Hungary, Israel wondered how this would end.

"So, who are you going to ask about the uniforms?" Hungary questioned India.

"I suppose I shall inform the United Kingdom—he certainly acts like he's in charge, anyway," India replied firmly.

"Well, let's hope you don't upset him," Hungary warned.

"Oh, he doesn't scare me—I don't care if I am his colony, I am not going to let that old green-eyed, bushy-eye-browed…man upset me!" India answered boldly. Hungary giggled.

"Well, let's see what happens," Hungary decided calmly. Searching for Israel, Hungary turned and spotted her.

"Israel, come on! We won't harm you," Hungary beckoned as she spoke. Israel briskly walked forward to catch up with them. Eventually, they found England.

"England, we have a request about the uniforms," India formally announced.

"India, if you are going to ask about the style again, the answer is 'no!' I cannot change the style simply because you think it is tacky," England said authoritatively. As India opened her mouth to object, England continued with, "India, I understand that everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but I can't change the rules, understand?"

"Listen, Your Royal Highness Great Britain," India addressed him with immense sarcasm, "I was not going to complain about the tackiness of this pitiful excuse for clothing, instead, I was going to put forth a different request."

England rolled his eyes as she sarcastically addressed him with pure sarcasm, and stared at her for a few minutes before replying.

"Fine, what is your request—and please, if you are going to address me, do not do it so...so...disdainfully," England pleaded.

"My wonderful roommate here, who is probably more wonderful than certain green-eyed, bushy-eye-browed Englishmen whom I am so unfortunately acquainted with, has politely requested that her skirt be made longer," India explained, clearly showing her preference for Israel and her disdain for England. England straightened his stance at her words.

"Oh, your roommate has finally arrived, has she? Who is it?" England inquired curiously. Jerking her chin towards Israel, India replied with, "Israel is my roommate,  _Your Highness_."

"Oh, you're her roommate, I see. India has been pining for a roommate for so long, it's good to have you here, Israel," England greeted Israel with a smile.

Israel shyly lowered her gaze as she smiled back.

"Tell me, why do you want your skirt longer?" England quizzed Israel.

Israel became fearful. Would she infuriate England with her objections? Would he scream at her? Would he abuse her? Questions fluttered around Israel's mind as sweat began to accumulate on her forehead.

"Well, you can tell me," England encouraged Israel.

Summoning her courage, Israel answered with, "Well…It fits, but…I…cannot…wear…such…short…skirts. I believe it wrong to show my thighs…Sir….Highness."

"Oh…Well, I'm not sure if I may allow you to make the skirt longer, but I'll see what we can do, all right?" England replied calmly.

Israel nodded timidly. With that, England strode away to re-read the rules. Israel sighed with utter relief, and nearly fainted as England disappeared around a corner.

"My, he was so nice to you! You are such a lucky woman, are you aware of that? He never acts like that to me—he always makes me make his tea, or something like that!" India declared with surprise in her enormous brown eyes.

"Well, you aren't very polite to him either, India," Hungary pointed out.

"Yes, but even when I am polite he—well, he's not that bad, but sometimes he is so grumpy! Well, not grumpy, more like…Are you feeling well, Israel?" India stopped her complaining as she noticed how pale Israel's skin was.

"I'm…fine, just…relieved that it went well," Israel answered, breathing deeply as she raised her eyes.

Hungary gently patted her on the back and crooned, "Don't let England scare you—he's not so bad….Well, not all of the time, anyway,"

Israel nodded understandingly. When England returned, he brought with him Austria. Seeing Austria, Hungary straightened up and smoothed her hair with her hand quickly.

"Well, there's nothing in the rule book about lengthening the skirt for religious reasons, so you may have someone lengthen it, if you wish," England stated.

Israel nodded gratefully while lowering her gaze again.

"Anything else you wish to know while you are here—oh, did anyone tell you the rules?" England questioned.

"I told her the rules, Your  _Royalness_. 'No running in the halls, get along with everyone, and every man for himself,' —are you happy now?" India answered quickly.

"I wasn't asking you, and there are more rules than that, India," England retorted, "As I was saying  _before_  I was so rudely interrupted, is there anything else you are curious about?"

Israel slowly shook her head.

"Good, I must go now. Austria, take care of them," England ordered as he walked away. While giving Hungary some red plaid material, Austria said, "You may use this to alter the skirt. If you need any help, simply ask."

"Well, I think we will be able to handle it, but we may need an escort to the sewing room," Hungary fondly replied.

Austria tenderly smiled at her and gladly led the way. Obviously, there was something between them. Indeed, Israel noticed there  _was_  something between them. When they reached the sewing room, Austria said he had some things to attend to and left after affectionately kissing Hungary on the cheek. Israel attempted to not seem shocked when Austria kissed the young woman. _Maybe they are siblings._  She told herself, although they didn't look like siblings to her.

"How long should we make the skirt?" India asked cheerfully, excited to be helping her wonderful roommate.

"Well…It must cover my thighs and not be revealing when I sit," Israel offered, not sure exactly how long that would be.

"Hmm…Let's see what the measuring tape offers," India said as she pulled out some measuring tape from a drawer.

About half an hour later, Israel's uniform was finished. When she tried on the uniform, Israel was relieved to see that it covered her knees, and her grueling scars. Spinning around slowly, Israel made sure that the uniform was evenly hemmed all the way around. She wondered if she should ask the girls to make it longer. Currently, it was seven centimeters below her knees, not floor length. However, it was comfortable and somewhat concealing. Israel was content. Exiting the bathroom, Israel declared that the skirt was suitable. India was delighted, and Hungary was pleased. Israel and Judah finally had their uniforms.

When it was time for supper, Israel searched for her brother. Meanwhile, Judah searched for her. As he walked through the halls, Judah wondered where Israel was. Scanning the faces in the crowds, Judah became anxious. Switzerland, who was walking beside Judah, was also searching for his sister. Suddenly, someone tapped Judah on the shoulder. Turning around quickly, Judah saw it was Turkey and relaxed slightly.

"Judah, I want you to enjoy yourself, okay? Walk around and meet someone, and don't worry about taking orders from me, after all, we are both students at this boarding school. If I need anything, I'll ask you, but don't worry about it, okay?" Turkey informed Judah. Judah nodded calmly.

"Good!" Turkey said cheerily as he walked past Judah, who continued to scan the crowds for Israel as he walked.

"Oh,  _Liet—this_  is, like, the guy I was telling you about," Poland's voice was coming from somewhere behind Judah.

In a moment, Poland and his green-eyed friend were standing beside Judah and Switzerland.

"Judah, this is, like, my best friend Lithuania, but I call him  _'Liet'_  for short," Poland introduced his friend to Judah.

Lithuania was pulling his shoulder-length, brown hair into a ponytail as he greeted Judah with, "Pleased to meet you."

Judah politely nodded back with a smile. Putting his hands down, Lithuania looked at Judah and said, "Poland told me you thanked him for what he did for the Jews."

Judah nodded.

"C'mon,  _Liet,_  let's go save our seats!" Poland decided as he grabbed Lithuania's arm and briskly walked away.

As they walked off, Judah wished again that he had a close friend. Suddenly, he spotted Israel, who was walking with India and Hungary.

"So, Israel, are you in love with anyone?" Hungary pried.

"No…" Israel replied while walking through the crowds, searching for her brother.

"Well, maybe by the end of the school year you'll find someone to love," Hungary reasoned.

Israel's heart panged with sorrow. She didn't believe that any man could love someone as scarred as her.

"I highly doubt that," Israel quietly spoke.

"Why?" Hungary probed, concern filling her green eyes.

"I doubt that any man would love me," Israel breathed bluntly.

"Why—you're such a nice girl, why would you doubt that someone would love you?" Hungary demanded in surprise.

"It doesn't matter whether or not you fall in love—get married first, then love will come in time," India declared simply.

Hungary stared at her in shock.

"Are you saying you don't believe in love?" Hungary interrogated India.

"No, I believe in love, but I do not think it is necessary to fall in love with someone before you marry them. In my house, we have arranged marriages all the time, and the couples learn how to love each other  _after_  they get married. Love is not just something you feel—it is something you  _do_ , and I don't just mean kissing! I mean _taking care_  of someone when he is sick,  _following him_ when you disagree, keeping him warm when he is cold, and feeding that someone even when you are starving. Love is an  _action_  as much as a feeling. Even when you don't _feel_  love for someone, you can still _love_  them," India clarified.

"Oh…I see," Hungary relented.

"As I mentioned before, I believe that love before marriage is unnecessary, however, that doesn't mean that I don't support it for other people…. In fact, Israel, I'm sure I could find a suitable match for you, if you want…" India suggested slyly.

"What?" Israel gasped.

"You heard me—I believe in matchmaking, would you like me to find a suitable match for you? You two would meet here at the school, and then eventually get married, fall in love, and all that—what do you say, my roommate?" India continued excitedly.

Hungary chortled, and then tried to cover her mouth with her hand.

"India…that's considerate of you, but… do not take it upon yourself to have to," Israel answered shyly, wondering if she phrased that correctly.

"Oh, don't worry, Roommate, for you I will do it for free! Good? Of course, good!" India replied happily.

"India, Israel does not want you to set her up with anyone, can't you tell? If my husband were here, he'd give you a speech on bothering others," Hungary butted in.

"You're married?" Israel interjected before India could answer Hungary.

"Yes-Austria's my husband," Hungary acknowledged, straightening and proudly lifting her chin as she spoke.

After hearing that, Israel felt a pang of shame for not realizing that sooner. As she looked away, Israel spotted her brother and rushed towards him, calling his name as she went. In a few moments, they were embracing. Israel relaxed now that she was back with her beloved brother.

They walked down the halls together, along with Switzerland and India, who was constantly talking. Once Israel introduced India, the conversation never ended. India wanted to know everything about Judah and Switzerland, and always had an interesting story to tell or a tiny observation to share. Thankfully, Judah didn't mind India's talkativeness, and Switzerland held his temper. As they were walking to the cafeteria, some people would introduce themselves while others would shoulder past them. Then, they met someone who would become one of the most important people in their lives. Israel was chatting with India when, suddenly, a young man stepped up to them. He was wearing the school uniform, but instead of the blue jacket, he wore his own, brown leather jacket.

"Hello! I'm the United States of America, but you can call me 'America'—what's your name?"

Indeed, that's what he  _said_ , but this is how it  _sounded_ :

"HELLO! I'M THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, BUT YOU CAN CALL ME 'AMERICA'! WHAT'S YOUR NAME!?"

Neither Israel nor Judah remembered meeting such a…vocal person. Truthfully, if one word described him, it would probably be 'loud', with a capital 'L-O-U-D'. Unsure of what to say to such a sudden, vocalized introduction, Israel nervously introduced herself and her brother, as well as India and Switzerland.

"Well, I'm sure proud to meet you!" America said as he stretched out his hand in greeting.

For a brief moment, Israel looked into his cheerful blue eyes, and then stared at his hand in confusion. Usually, she didn't shake hands with anybody, and she wasn't sure if it would be permissible for her to shake his hand. As he saw worry creeping into Israel's eyes, Judah wanted to say something, but wasn't sure what to say.

Noticing the nervous look on Israel's face, America started to retract his hand as he said, "Oh, you don't shake hands—sorry!"

"No, it's fine…if you greet people like that then it's fine by me," Israel quickly blurted out, not wanting to offend him.

Israel gingerly shook America's hand. In that brief moment they touched, the two had a strange feeling, as if they were shaking hands with their future spouse. When she had this vague premonition, Israel again looked at America's face for an instant, and noticed the shade of his dirty-blonde hair, the way his glasses rested on his nose and the cowlick standing in the air above his forehead. Similar to the feeling she had when she met Austria, Israel had a deep urging to pin down that one lock of hair so it would be flush with the rest of his hair. Although Israel only came up to America's chin, she didn't feel short or intimidated beside him. For a brief moment, she didn't mind being close to a strange man.

Judah noticed the way Israel and America locked eyes for those few moments. Judah was a tiny bit taller than Israel, but he still was a head shorter than America. He didn't mind being short, but he did mind people harming his sister. However, the way America gazed into Israel's eyes was not hurtful or insulting, but... _gentle_...and  _caring_. Judah memorized the look.

Abruptly, Israel realized that she was staring into a man's eyes and instantly retracted her hand and looked away. Putting his hand down, America kindly asked if Israel was okay. Israel nodded swiftly, hoping he wouldn't be angry at her for staring at him. America walked down the hallway with them, eager to find out more about them.

As America walked with Israel, he pondered why he felt that she was his wife. Believing it was nonsense, America shoved the idea out of his mind. When they reached the cafeteria, Liechtenstein greeted them and informed her brother that she saved a seat for him. Once he got something to eat, Switzerland followed his sister to their seats. After they walked through the line and got their supper, Israel and Judah glanced around the room, unsure of where to sit. They couldn't remember the last time they were in such a large crowd gathered for one meal like this.

"Do you want to sit by me?" America offered eagerly.

Israel stared at her brother, waiting for him to answer. Judah shrugged his shoulders, as if to say, "Why not?" and followed America, who jauntily led them to a round table where some other young men were sitting. India smiled at Israel as she left, and went to sit by some of the girls. Inwardly, India was considering America and Israel together, and decided that America was a suitable match for Israel. India began plotting how to set them up. Meanwhile, Israel arrived at the table America led them to, and recognized France and England sitting there, but not the other three boys, although Judah did recall seeing one of them enter the men's dorm with Lithuania and some other fellows.

"Hello, Everyone! This is Israel and Judah, Israel and Judah this is England, France, Russia and China," America introduced his companions. When he sat down, he looked to his left and saw one more person at the table, who he introduced with, "Oh! I didn't see you there, Canadia! This is Canadia, my brother."

"It's Canada," The blonde-haired schoolboy quietly corrected.

"Oh, I didn't notice you there either, Canada—how long have you been sitting there?" France questioned.

"The whole time," Canada said quietly with a frustrated sigh.

Israel and Judah couldn't understand how America and France didn't notice Canada, but they held their peace and sat down. Israel quickly surveyed the table and anxiously realized she was sitting with a group of men. If her brother wasn't with her, she may have been petrified. Sitting on France's left was Russia, who had white hair and purple eyes. For some reason, he was wearing a long scarf along with his uniform. Israel wondered if he was actually cold, or merely enjoyed wearing the scarf. Judah recognized him as the tall schoolboy who entered with Lithuania earlier. Indeed, Russia was  _certainly_  a  _tall_  young man. Although America, France and England were tall, Russia was clearly taller. Compared to Israel and Judah, Russia was gigantic. On Russia's left was China, who had a long, black ponytail and brown eyes. Across from China was Canada, who had the same blue eyes and dirty blonde hair as his brother and one excessively long hair curl hanging in front of his face. Beside Canada were America, Judah and Israel, who sat on China's left. When they sat down, America looked at Israel and again wondered why he had a premonition that Israel was his wife. Once again, he tossed the idea out of his mind.

As they ate, everyone chatted, and Israel began to relax slightly. When they finished eating, everyone left the cafeteria, and America gave Israel and Judah the grand tour of the school. One thing America pointed out to them was a certain bulletin board. On the board were several announcements and sign-up sheets for the various school clubs. America quickly and eagerly zoned in on the sign-up sheets as Israel and Judah began to read them.

"Oh, you two should really sign up for a club! When school's finished and you have nothing else to do, it's great to have a club to go to at the end of the day! Seriously—sign up! We have a chorus club if you like to sing, a newsletter writing club if you like to report stuff, a swimming club—you name it, we probably have a club for it!" America happily declared.

Israel eyed her brother, waiting for his reply.

Judah gazed back at her as if he was saying, "Why don't you speak for yourself?"

This was one of those times that Israel wished her brother believed that words spoke louder than actions; she did not want to speak for herself to a man she hardly knew. While Israel's ice-blue eyes pleaded with, pressured, and persuaded her brother to say  _something_ , someone suddenly, happily, and excitedly hopped over to them and introduced himself as Northern Italy, commonly known as 'Italy'. His brown eyes sparkled with cheerfulness as he introduced himself while his brown hair glimmered in the sunlight streaming through the window. As Israel and Judah turned to look at him, they terrified Italy with their severe facial scars. Israel recognized the fear entering Italy's eyes and turned away, cursing her startling appearance. Initially, Italy considered backing slowly away from them, but something touched his tender heart and he began to feel compassion instead of fear. As America introduced Israel and Judah, Italy relaxed and eventually returned to his original jauntiness.

"Ve~, have you signed up for a club yet? Why don't you join the newsletter club—we could use some more people! There's only me, Germany and Japan right now, and there's only so much we three can do—c'mon, join us!" Italy invited them with a smile.

Again, Israel turned to her brother to lead her, and again he stared back at her, wishing her to speak for herself, and again she silently implored him to say  _anything_  to this strange man she didn't know.

For a few moments, Israel observed Italy while wondering what to say to him, and suddenly noticed that he had one stray curl of hair poking out of the left side of his head. After seeing several youths with random pieces of hair standing apart from the rest of their hair, Israel decided to ignore Italy's curl, even though the organized side of her personality wished to pin it flat. Instead, she chose to focus on her brother, hoping for him to answer Italy. While waiting for her brother to answer, Israel felt something in the back of her brain—there was something familiar about Italy. Out of the corner of her eye, Israel studied him, realizing that his face looked familiar…but she couldn't recall where she saw him before. Finally, Judah turned to Italy and inquired about the newsletter club.

"What do you do?" Judah questioned Italy.

"Oh, we write about what's going on in the school, we come up with interesting stories to write about people, we go around and ask questions—" Italy began as he was interrupted with,

"Italy, are you pestering these people? Don't you have something you need to do?"

Turning around, Italy spotted the blonde-haired, blue-eyed man behind him who spoke.

"Oh, no, Germany, I'm just telling them about our club, that's all," Italy explained cheerfully.

"Hello Germany! Where's Japan?" America asked Germany once Italy finished.

Germany eyed America, adjusted his glasses and answered, "Oh, he's around here somewhere," After that, he turned to Italy and quickly ordered, "Italy, you can talk about our club, but don't annoy anyone, understand?"

"Ve~, I understand, Germany! I won't annoy them, and besides,  _he_  wanted to know what we do, so I told him," Italy responded, indicating Judah. Germany analyzed Judah.

"Did Italy annoy you?" Germany demanded. Judah shook his head gently.

"Good, by the way, I'm Germany," Germany replied.

"Southern Mandatory Palestine, known as Judah," Judah introduced himself and continued with, "This is my sister, Northern Mandatory Palestine, known as Israel." Israel timidly nodded at Germany as Judah introduced her.

"Judah and Israel, right. Well, enjoy yourselves, and if Italy pesters you, tell me, understand?" Germany instructed them. Judah and Israel nodded as Italy defended himself, insisting that he wouldn't annoy them. While Germany hurried off to tend to something, Italy re-focused on Israel and Judah.

"Don't mind Germany! He's not that bad once you get to know him, although he can be mean sometimes because he doesn't know how to act around people and he wants things to go a certain way and all that," Italy casually informed them. Israel speculated whether she wanted to be better acquainted with Germany or not; his abrupt nature made her nervous.

"So, are you goin' to join a club?" America probed Judah casually.

"Oh, please join the newsletter club! We could use more people!" Italy beseeched them.

Judah stared at Israel, waiting for her answer. Israel stared back, waiting for his answer. Italy stared at them both, waiting for any answer. Eventually, Judah turned to Italy and requested a sign-up sheet.

"Ve~, we have one right here!" Italy lilted as he pointed to the sign-up sheet on the board.

Handing Judah a pen, America assured them that they would enjoy it while Italy happily affirmed that it was going to be splendid. Judah signed his name to the paper and Israel followed suit. Israel began to relax again as Italy constantly chatted about how wonderful it was going to be in the newsletter club with them. Thus began their school days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you for reading this far!
> 
> Please write me a review and tell me what you think-did anything make you giggle? Make you sad? Make you angry? Remember, write something positive for something negative, balance it out, please! This is my first fan fiction, please be kind.
> 
> Here are more historical facts:
> 
> Over the centuries, Jews were persecuted and kicked out of various nations.
> 
> One thing forced on the Jews took place in 1008–1013 AD: The Caliph of the Fatimid Empire institutes severe restrictions against Jews, including forcing them to wear a heavy wooden "golden calf" around their necks. Christians had to wear a large wooden cross and members of both groups had to wear black hats.
> 
> Dozens of other things happened over the years, but I can't talk about everything.
> 
> As for the facts behind my story,
> 
> In 1343 AD, Casimir the Great of Poland invited the Jews to move to his land.
> 
> They were still persecuted in other areas, but they had at least one safe place to go.
> 
> In 1492 AD: Approximately 200,000 Jews are expelled from Spain, The expelled Jews relocate to Turkey, the Netherlands, Judea, and Arab lands. Amazingly, some manage to travel all the way to South and Central America. However, most emigrate to Poland. Eventually, more than half of the Jewish world population lived in Poland.
> 
> 1501 AD: King Alexander of Poland readmits Jews to the Grand Duchy of Lithuania.
> 
> 1534 AD: King Sigismund I of Poland abolishes the law that required Jews to wear special clothes. Also, the first Yiddish book was published in Poland.
> 
> In case you didn't know, Yiddish is a language that combines German and Hebrew, and is associated with many Jews today.
> 
> 1547 AD: The First Hebrew printing house was opened in Lublin.
> 
> 1567 AD: The first Jewish university Jeshiva was founded in Poland.
> 
> 1648 AD: Jewish population of Poland reached 450,000 (4% of Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth is Jewish). Worldwide population of Jewry is about 750,000.
> 
> At this point, I think it would be safe to say that Poland was the center of Judaism. Sadly, it came to an end.
> 
> 1772–1795 AD: Poland is parted between Russia, Kingdom of Prussia and Austria. All the privileges of Jewish communities given to them by Poland are thrown away.
> 
> I'm not saying Poland is flawless, I'm simply pointing out how many times Poland did something kind to the Jews, who are despised, kicked out, insulted, and murdered all over the world throughout the ages. Indeed, I find it highly fascinating.
> 
> There's plenty of other things that happened in Jewish history, but I cannot mention them all; I try to adhere to what I utilized in my story.
> 
> Thank-you again for reading this far!
> 
> Please, keep reading until you get to the end!
> 
> If you write a review, please be kind!
> 
> Remember, This is my first, and possibly my last, fan fiction; please forgive any grammar mistakes or historical/character inaccuracies. I tried my best to be accurate, but I cannot promise 100% accuracy.
> 
> Thank-you for understanding.
> 
> Also, I apologize for how long this chapter is, but I wanted everything to make sense, hence I explained quite a bit within the first few chapters. I promise there are plenty of shorter chapters coming up soon.
> 
> Please be patient with me.
> 
> ~+~ PioneeringAuthor ~+~


	3. Chapter 2: An Eventful Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long chapter, but I didn't want to rush it and make everything confusing or bland.
> 
> Please relax and enjoy.
> 
> If you have something to say, please say it nicely.
> 
> Thank-you for reading this far!
> 
> ~+~ PioneeringAuthor ~+~

**Chapter 2**

**An eventful day**

The next day was the first day of school. Everyone sprinted through hallways attempting to find his or her class, hoping to be on time. Israel and Judah were in the Middle Eastern class, along with Turkey and his brothers. Of course, nobody knew where that classroom was. Eventually, they spotted Austria, who gladly pointed the way. As they entered, the bell rang. Thankfully, they arrived on time. As the day progressed, Israel picked up more words of the English language from the people around her, and soon learned the modern dialect. Speaking English correctly comforted her. So far, the first day of school was coming along excellently.

When classes were over, Israel breathed a sigh of relief. She never had official classes before, and she was glad they were easier than she anticipated. She knew they would get harder, but at least they started out understandable. At length, it was time to attend their club. Once again, everyone dashed through the halls as he or she attempted to find his or her meeting places. Of course, Israel and Judah were caught in the midst of it. Searching for their club, Israel and Judah wondered how they were supposed to locate it. Suddenly, something crashed into Judah's back. Steadying himself, Judah quickly turned around and recognized Italy on the ground behind him. Apparently, Italy rammed into Judah and subsequently dropped onto the marble floor. Judah kneeled to examine Italy, who seemed to be fine except that he was clearly unconscious. Judah glanced at Israel, who kneeled beside him. Judah gently attempted to wake Italy, to no avail. Israel became restless.

"Don't worry about him—this happens often; he is fine," Someone consoled them.

Peering upwards, Judah and Israel noticed a black-haired, brown-eyed schoolboy before them.

"I am Japan," he introduced himself with a slight bow.

"I am Southern Mandatory Palestine, known as Judah, and this is my sister, Northern Mandatory Palestine, known as Israel," Judah responded politely with a nod. Considering the accents she heard, Israel found Japan's accent to be one of the easier ones to understand.

"Italy told me about you; he said you were joining our club," Japan stated as he observed Italy.

Judah nodded.

Italy stirred, gently lifting his head from the ground. Slowly he opened his brown eyes and rubbed his brown hair with a moan. As she watched Italy, Israel felt a vague sense of recognition. She wondered if she had seen him before that day.

"Where am I? Oh, yes! I'm at school, hello Judah, Japan, Israel!" Italy greeted them cheerily, "I'm sorry I bumped into you—I guess I should pay better attention to where I'm going." Israel smiled as Italy finished speaking, relieved that he was unharmed.

"You really should be careful, Italy, because this is the fifth time you have crashed into someone today," Japan warned him.

"No it isn't! It's only the fourth time this happened!" Italy debated firmly.

"It is the fifth, should I remind you who you bumped into?" Japan parried quietly.

"Oh, that's right! I bumped into Seychelles, too! I remember now—you're right, it's the fifth," Italy recalled as he continued with, "Oh, Judah, could you help me up, please?"

Standing up, Judah kindly helped Italy to his feet with an amused smile. Israel stood up, straightened her plaid skirt and eyed the wall clock.

"Oh, it's time to get to our club! Follow me!" Italy exclaimed as he trotted down a nearby hallway. Italy led the way, but he kept stopping to chat with somebody or to complement a pretty girl. When they finally arrived at the club meeting room, Israel, Judah, Japan, and Italy were greeted with a stern look from Germany. At least,  _Italy_  was greeted with a stern look from Germany. While he was glaring at Italy, Germany questioned, "Italy, where have you been? I have been waiting for the past fifteen minutes."

"I'm sorry, Germany! I was coming to the meeting when I bumped into Israel and Judah, and then I simply  _had_  to complement the pretty girls that passed me by, so that's why I'm late," Italy casually explained. Judah hid his amused grin with one hand as he glanced at his sister, who attempted to keep a straight face under the circumstances, although her eyes twinkled with laughter.

Highly annoyed, Germany slowly rested his face in his hands, trying to remain calm under the circumstances. Obeying the rules consistently, Germany completely believed that if someone  _didn't_  follow the rulebook, something  _would go wrong_. Indeed, he was an organizer. Sadly, he was so used to following the rulebook that he didn't know what to do in the social world where things were often serendipitous, unplanned, and possibly chaotic. Hence, when people like Italy, who flitted around casually and didn't adhere to schedules exactly, stepped into his organized life, he became irritated or confused. This was one of the times when Germany grew extremely irritated, because Italy grasped how much Germany clung to schedules, and Italy knew where the meeting room was—he had been there plenty of times before—and Italy still didn't care enough to get to the meeting on time. It was an organizer's nightmare…somewhat. Although Italy greatly irritated him, Germany kept calm…mostly.

When everyone relaxed into chairs, Germany officially started the meeting. Immediately, Italy started offering writing topics while Germany scratched them onto his notepad. As Italy finished speaking, Japan quietly commented on Italy's ideas. After further discussion, Germany asked Israel and Judah what they thought. Israel stared at the table, afraid to lock eyes with any of the strange boys. Gently, Judah nudged Israel, attempting to encourage her to speak. Israel glanced at him, wondering why he insisted on  _her_  speaking. Neither uttered a word to each other, yet they knew exactly what they were communicating. Sighing inwardly, Israel relented and began to consider what she would write. Shifting around in her chair, Israel attempted to relax as she offered her idea.

"Well…I think it would be interesting to learn about…where…people…come from," Israel shyly remarked. Judah nodded approvingly.

"I think we'll be able to gather plenty of data on homelands," Germany responded while scribbling it onto his notepad.

"Yes, but what do we ask?" Japan pointed out quietly.

"A basic description will be suitable—that's what we'll ask for," Germany answered. Japan wasn't completely satisfied with that answer, but he remained quiet. After a lengthy discussion, the club members opted that they should write an article comparing climates of different nations. Everyone was satisfied with that plan.

Before they toured the school, they interviewed each other. When Germany turned to question Israel and Judah about their homeland, the siblings silently looked away. Realizing that he spoke to an inner wound, and remembering that Israel and Judah were subordinates, Germany silently looked down at his notepad and awkwardly scratched his head, afraid to speak again.

"We have a homeland; it is magnificent," Judah finally answered, being honest in his words.

Germany looked up as Judah continued with, "I have not seen it recently, but I remember that it snowed in winter, and was hot in summer. I cannot say how it appears now, but it was magnificent."

Germany nodded and noted notes on his notepad. Eventually, they interviewed numerous people in the school and began their article. When she was interviewing people, Israel found it challenging to speak to men, which was not especially helpful since there were a large number of men there, but after a few interviews, she relaxed. By suppertime, the school's first newsletter publication of the year was complete. All were proud of the work they accomplished together. It wasn't easy for Israel to walk up to strangers and interview them, but with Judah and her fellow club members' help, she learned how to confidently approach people and ask questions. Truthfully, she enjoyed asking questions and learning things. She was glad to be a part of the school newsletter club and grew excited for future interviews and articles.

As Israel and Judah walked down the hallway, France noticed them. For that entire day, something had been sitting in his mind, pestering him whenever he had a spare moment, and he couldn't stand it any longer—there was a question he HAD to ask them. Jogging towards them, France called out, "Israel! Wait a moment! I have a question for you!"

Israel and Judah slowed so he could catch up to them.

"Israel, I am sure I have seen you somewhere before! Have you ever traveled outside the Middle East?" France questioned them as he stepped beside them.

"…No, not that I recall…" Israel shyly offered, hoping he wouldn't try to touch her again. France twirled a strand of his golden hair around one of his fingers, contemplating where he saw her before.

"Well…did someone ever  _take_  you out of the Middle East?" France probed, growing dismayed and frantic as he desperately tried to remember where he saw her.

"Uhm...yes, actually, I had one master that would take me to different places…at times…" Israel nervously answered, wondering where these questions where leading.

"Who was it?" France demanded in hopes that he would remember where they met.

"…R-Rome…" Israel quietly stuttered, looking at her brother from the corner of her eye.

France instantly straightened up and clapped his hands in joy, loudly declaring, "THAT'S IT!" Turning back to Israel, he added in a quieter voice, "I saw you with Rome! I used to be one of his servants—it was so long ago, you probably don't remember, but I was there! I remember—you—you—you used to wear that oversized black hooded cape that shrouded your face—but I did see your face one time! I remember! That's where I saw you! Now that I think of it, I saw your brother as well, but not as often as I saw you—you were always cleaning something…or…or…oh, I can't remember—but you had a lot of duties!"

Israel and Judah stopped and stared at him in surprise. Although Israel was intimidated by men, and hardly looked them in the eye, this time she didn't care—she was so shocked that someone remembered her from  _that_  long ago that she locked eyes with France.

"Do you remember me at all?" France enquired, shifting his gaze from one to the other.

"Well…now that I think of it…yes, I do! I remember—you…your accent was rather easy for me to understand, because it was like how I spoke—and it still is like that!" Israel slowly recalled, staring at France as she spoke.

"I remember seeing you occasionally," Judah admitted as he studied France's features.

"HA! I knew I recognized you from somewhere! Now I can relax—thank-you! By the way, what else did you do besides clean floors, Israel?" France asked as he leaned against the wall in triumph.

"Well…I tended to his…his…his grandchildren," Israel disclosed as memories revived themselves in her mind. Suddenly, she realized that she was looking a man in the eye, and carefully lowered her gaze. There were some men who would hit her for looking them in the eye, and she didn't want that to happen again.

"Ah—I remember that too! I remember once seeing you…let me see…you were singing…singing something to…to…Oh! I can't remember—was it Italy or Romano?" France asked while scratching his blonde head, laboriously attempting to bring back the memories of the ancient days.

"What about me?" A stiff voice snapped from nearby. The three turned their heads to a nearby brown-haired, brown-eyed man who looked similar to Italy.

"Romano, tell me if this girl looks familiar to you," France ordered, signaling for Israel and Judah to be quiet.

"Of course she looks familiar, I saw her yesterday," Romano pointed out while rolling his eyes.

"No—think back, as far as you can remember, where else have you seen her?" France instructed him, hoping that someone else would remember Israel or Judah.

Folding his arms in complaint, Romano studied Israel's face hard, wondering what France was trying to pull. After several moments, something sparked in Romano's mind. Indeed, Israel  _did_  seem familiar, from a time long ago…who was she? Israel lifted her gaze to catch Romano's eye, and smiled as she remembered the ancient days. Although France motioned for her to keep silent, Israel gently commented to Romano, "You certainly have grown up,  _Na'ar_."

At first, Romano wondered what she meant, and then the spark deep in his mind grew into a flame of remembrance.  _Na'ar_ —he heard that word before, but where? Suddenly, he identified Israel.

"No, it's impossible…you…you…you died—you died!" Romano stumbled over his words, feeling as if he was looking at a ghost. Shocked, he stared at Israel, slowly backing away.

"I did not die, I was only captured, young man," Israel corrected Romano's memory with a kind smile as she remembered how small he used to be...and how adorable he was.

"But…I…I can't believe you're still…Wait—young man,  _Na'ar_ —I remember now! You used to always call my brother and me that word— _Na'ar_ , that means…young man…right?" Romano uttered as more memories awakened in his mind.

"Yes,  _Na'ar_! I'm glad you still remember," Israel confirmed with a nod.

"I still cannot believe it's you! My…my…babysitter…wait—that was centuries ago! You should be looking…no offense…I mean…you…well…you seem so…young…"Romano trailed off, afraid to insult a woman, but dying to know why Israel looked younger than he was. "What I mean is, you look about a year younger than America, when you should look…more…I mean…Why don't you look as old as that wine-drinker, France?" Romano continued after a pause.

"You know, you have a point there, Romano—Israel, tell us, how did you cease from aging?" France agreed, too absorbed in the question to even realize that Romano insulted him.

"Well…I…I suppose it is because I have never been an official, separate nation," Israel offered, looking at her brother for help. Of course, her brother had no idea how they aged so slowly, and only shrugged his shoulders.

Meanwhile, France and Romano were surprised to hear that Israel had NEVER been free.

"Are you saying that you have always had a master? You have  _never_  been your own country?" France asked, making sure that he heard correctly.

"Wait—you have  _never_  been a separate nation?  _Never_?" Romano repeated, unable to fathom the thought.

Israel and Judah shook their heads indicating that they never had.

"We were born and raised in captivity, but we will be free one day," Judah clarified, saying one of the longest sentences he had phrased that day, besides introducing himself. He still remembered the prophecy.

France and Romano looked at each other, a new respect for Israel and Judah brimming between them. Romano was raised by Spain, so he understood being under someone else's roof for a period of time….However, the thought of  _never_  being free, of not merely being raised by someone but raising yourself under a taskmaster, of being a servant one's entire life, made him feel as if he was free his whole life. France likewise couldn't bear the thought of always slaving after someone….Also, he couldn't help but think of how nice Israel looked for her age, and he wished that he could somehow tap into her fountain of youth. France and Romano were speechless for several seconds.

"I…I hope you do get the freedom you deserve," France quietly spoke with a nod, unsure of what to say.

Israel and Judah nodded in thanks, and then Judah indicated that it was time to leave for supper. They left behind Romano and France who stared at them in wonder, thinking of all the good things they had in their lives. Israel and Judah continued to walk down the hallway, unaware of the new respect they earned.

The next day at breakfast, Israel and Judah were eating together with some others, when an interesting challenge began through a conversation.

"Ve~, Judah, what are you really good at doing?" Italy asked Judah between bites of food.

Judah chewed over the question in his mind as he chewed the food in his mouth. What was his special skill, he wondered. Well, he could sing, but he assumed that if he admitted  _that_  he would be forced to demonstrate, and he didn't want to sing in front of people he hardly knew. Ruminating over what his talent was, Judah gnawed on an apple and slowly churned a piece of it around in his mouth like a bull chewing on his cud. Finally, it came to him: he was a knife-thrower. Centuries ago, Judah's father taught him how to fight, including how to throw knives, and Judah had steadily improved over time. Knife throwing was something he was willing to confess as his skill.

"Knife-throwing," Judah admitted after swallowing.

"Ve~, that sounds dangerous, and exciting," Italy commented.

"How did you learn knife-throwing?" Germany probed with interest. Because he was a military-minded fellow, Germany instantly took interest in talk of fighting-type skills.

"Father taught me; I practiced," Judah explained in the least amount of words he could recall. [Usually, that was how he spoke—the bare minimum of words… in case I didn't mention that earlier.]

"How skilled are you at knife-throwing?" England asked curiously.

"Skilled," Judah replied. He felt it was unnecessary to say how skilled, especially since he didn't know what comparison to use to describe his skill.

America giggled at Judah's short answer while England nearly glared at Judah in annoyance. As Judah continued to eat, Israel thought of how skilled her brother was at knife throwing and self-defense. She remembered times when her brother protected her. She recalled times when her brother taught her how to defend herself. She flashed back to days when she was utterly astounded by his accuracy with a knife.

Suddenly, without realizing what she was saying, Israel announced, "My brother can slice a single grape in midair."

At that moment, the entire table stared at Israel in disbelief. Slowly, everyone shifted his or her gaze to Judah. Surprised by what his sister admitted, Judah froze with his apple trapped in his jaws. With his teeth still deep in his apple, Judah eyed Israel. Then Israel began to feel guilty for what she said, and she lowered her eyes, afraid to look anyone, especially her brother, in the eye. Indeed, she hadn't lied—Judah  _could_  slice a grape in midair. However, when Israel spoke it sounded so prideful to her that guilt clogged her heart, and shame crept into her face.

Her guilt was probably unnecessary, but it tormented her anyway. The wounds on her heart throbbed, claiming that she made a horrible mistake, that everyone would insult her and Judah because of what she uttered, and that she never should have spoken in the first place. She shouldn't have listened to that voice, but it whispered too loud for her to ignore. Meanwhile, Judah pondered what he was supposed to say to everyone now that they all knew that he could slice a grape midair. Calmly, Judah finished biting his apple, and nodded in acknowledgement.

"You can't be serious," England exclaimed in disbelief.

Japan leaned closer to the conversation as others interrogated Judah. Japan was always interested in learning about others, and this time was no exception.

"Is this a bluff, or are you for real play? Can you honestly slice a grape mid-air? How can you do that?" America blurted out in amazement, using slang as he usually did.

"Can you demonstrate this for us?" Germany quizzed, wondering if such a feat could be possible. Of course, there was a side of him determined to write an article about Judah if this random fact proved to be true.

"Ve~, I didn't know anyone could get that accurate with a knife!" Italy remarked in awe.

"Is it…possible?" Canada shyly asked. The entire table waited for answers as Judah hunched over his food and silently chewed. Ruminating on his bite of an apple, Judah questioned himself, before answering other people's requests.

_If I say that I can throw a knife that well, they will either believe I am lying, or they will ask me to…wait, Germany already asked me to demonstrate….I could, but I have no throwing knives…. If I do receive some knives and a grape, where would I demonstrate? Is there a safe place? Perhaps I could go out on the lawn, but, surely, the school authorities wouldn't allow it. On the other hand, they might permit it under the right conditions. Then again, should I really slice a grape as I have done in the past? If I do, either people would insult me for showing off, or they would follow me around constantly, asking how I became so adroit. Do I really want a large crowd surrounding me, desperate to know more of me? I don't want to draw enormous attention to myself, I simply want to do whatever God tells me to do, and be an honorable student at this school. If everyone wished to speak to me at once, I may never have time to study. How would I protect my sister if everyone bothered me? I am fine with talking to people, but I don't have time to speak with every student here...After all, there are only so many questions one can answer and only so much time one has to speak…._

_If I do speak, I desire to have a worthwhile conversation, not idle chatter. After all, the Scriptures say, 'When words abound, transgression is unavoidable, but whoever restrains his lips is wise.' However, if everyone asks me questions as they do now, I shall have to give an answer eventually…but there are only so many people I can answer at a time…perhaps I should stay silent, then I wouldn't have to prove or defend anything. Then again, if I stay silent, they shall surely continue to pester me. Besides, why should I be silent—I am skilled enough to slice a grape mid-air, and sooner or later they shall see it, so why not show them now and get it over with? Besides, it is nothing to be ashamed of—why hide it? If many people have questions for me, I suppose I should answer them, rather than avoid it. After all, one should not be afraid to ask or answer a question, should he? If I am asked a question, then I should answer it. I suppose I should swallow now and give them my answer….I shall be honest with them and acknowledge my skill, and if I must demonstrate then I shall._

After this lengthy discussion with himself, Judah swallowed, glanced around the table, and simply confessed, "Yes, I can slice a grape midair. With proper knives I may demonstrate."

"You're mad! No one would ever get such accuracy! You're making it up!" England sputtered with indignation. As England spoke in this outraged tone, Israel sank lower into her chair fearfully, feeling as if she caused an immense disaster. In truth, her shame and fear stemmed from past experiences and the wounds on her heart, not simply from one thing she said. Indeed, she did cause a stir, but it was not entirely she who caused it. Currently, England was the one fussing the most while Judah calmly attempted to explain himself.

"I practiced; I can do it—it is a matter of calculations, it isn't impossible," Judah elucidated.

France, who was determined to always contradict England, butted in with, "England, anything is possible if one practices—give Judah a chance to prove himself before you insult him, you big-eye-browed oaf!"

"What do my eyebrows have to do with this, you frog?" England shot back, his anger worsening each moment.

As the two historical rivals insulted and contradicted each other, Canada noticed Israel seemed depressed, and quietly asked her, "Are you feeling well?"

Looking at Canada, Israel timidly nodded before lowering her gaze. Canada didn't know Israel very well, but he still cared about her, especially since she appeared deeply troubled. Israel appreciated the concern she heard in his voice, but was too nervous to speak. While Israel studied the folds on her skirt, the other men at the table continued to question her brother, who took his time in answering between gulps of food. After several minutes of questions and answers, Judah repeated, "With proper knives I may demonstrate."

Finally, England couldn't stand his confusion and indignation any longer, and declared that he would find throwing knives  _somewhere_  on campus for Judah to prove his abilities with.

During the day, the news of Judah's talents spread throughout the school. Persistently, people probed him with questions the moment he stepped out of his classes into the hallways. Patiently, Judah answered the barrage of questions and confusion as clearly and calmly as possible. Certain people scoffed at his aforementioned abilities, believing it was a lie. Others fully believed and defended him. Still others were too confused to choose either side. However, most of the school joined the scoffers. Meanwhile, England approached the principal, persuaded him to allow a knife-throwing demonstration under safe conditions, and began to search for a suitable set of blades. Ultimately, he found he had no choice but to leave school property for a time in order to acquire the blades.

Indeed, England was determined to either prove Judah wrong, or witness his skill firsthand. He obsessed with it. By suppertime, the entire school was also desperate to witness the truth. Finally, England returned with a set of blades he purchased himself. With Austria's help, he quickly set aside a place on the front lawn, found a wooden target for Judah to practice on, and even located a cluster of grapes. Soon, the school discovered that England's preparations for the demonstration were underway. When supper ended, England approached Judah, handed him the blades and asked if they were suitable. Carefully Judah handled the blades, tested their sharpness, and examined their tangs. After a few moments, he silently nodded approval.

"Does that mean you will show us if you truly can slice fruit in the air?" England demanded, tired of arguing with himself and others over whether such a feat was possible or not. Again, Judah calmly nodded without uttering a word.

"Excellent! Everything's already set up for you on the front lawn," England explained as he stared down at Judah who still reclined in his chair at a table. Standing up from his chair, Judah announced that he was ready. While Judah followed England outside, a crowd accumulated around him, determined to observe every moment of the impending event. Throughout the school, excitement had built up to this moment, and no one wanted to miss it.

As the crowd followed Judah, Israel lagged behind, still sitting at her table when most of the room left. She felt distressed and blamed herself for all the trouble Judah had been through thus far. She repeatedly wondered what would happen if Judah failed. What would people say? What would they do? What would they do to Judah if he failed? Israel pondered questions such as these constantly. If Judah did fail, she believed that it would be  _her_  fault and all the blame for whatever ensued would land on  _her_  head because  _she_  was the one who first mentioned Judah's extreme accuracy.

On the other hand, it wasn't  _entirely_  her fault that the school was now going to watch his demonstration. After all, it was England who obsessed over the concept and prepared everything. Contemplatively, Israel stared at her shoes, wondering if she should watch what unfolded. Suddenly, she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. Peering upwards instantly, Israel stared into America's blue eyes. She stiffened under his touch, afraid he might harm her, and yet, strangely, she relaxed beneath his gentle fingertips. Although America was a man, there was something comforting in the way he lightly grasped her shoulder. For some unknown reason deep within herself, Israel didn't mind being touched by America. Besides, it was only a shoulder touch, nothing serious.

"Are you feeling all right?" America asked her as he laid a hand on her shoulder. His voice was softer than usual as he spoke to her. She studied his face, forming an answer in her mind.

"I…I'm fine," Israel lied, feeling her unnecessary guilt over what was going on with her brother weigh her heart down as she spoke. After she answered America, Israel felt another twinge of guilt, this one for lying and saying that she was fine. Then again, she wasn't physically hurt, so perhaps it wasn't entirely a lie…and yet, it wasn't entirely honest either. Removing his hand from Israel's shoulder, America replied, "Well, if you're fine, then why aren't you following them? Don't you know that they're all going to watch your brother throw knives? C'mon, don't you want to see how he does?"

Looking down at the floor again, Israel pondered what to say. Part of her wanted to lie again and say she felt sick so that she would have a good excuse to avoid the demonstration. On the other hand, a larger part of her didn't want to lie anymore. Hence, she confessed, "I…I'm worried that he…will…fail….I…I first…mentioned his…ability, and I don't…want to see…him…fail. It would be my…fault."

"No, it wouldn't—If he fails to slice a grape in midair it wouldn't be on account of you! Do you even know how powerful hard it sounds to slice  _anything_  in midair, especially a  _grape_? To think that your brother could do such a thing is amazing! Listen, everything is going to be right as a trivet. He'll make it, you'll see. Besides, if he's game, you should support him 'cause he's your brother!" America declared triumphantly with a sprinkling of slang while his voice returned to its normal, intense volume. Slowly Israel raised her eyes to America's hand level and replied, "You know…you're right…I should…support him."

"That's the spirit!" America cheered as Israel rose to her feet. Bravely, Israel followed the crowd outdoors, and timidly pushed her way to the front to watch what would happen to her brother.

Judah was examining the wooden target and the legs holding the target. Carefully, he steadied it and tested its durability. Pacing backwards, he motioned for the crowd to back further behind the boundary lines, to be safe. England, Germany, Italy, Austria, Israel, and America were among those in the front row, watching as Judah stepped to a certain spot several meters away from the target. With experienced hands, he held the knives, carefully selected one, and gripped it firmly. In his mind, he calculated the approximate distance that he was from the target, the approximate length of the blade, and several other considerations before finally throwing the blade. Within only a few seconds, Judah curved his arm backward, threw the blade forward, and watched as the blade stabbed the exact center of the target. Indeed, the crowd was already impressed with his accuracy, but they were still waiting for the grape. A short distance from Judah's feet sat a small basket of fruit, with a fresh cluster of ripe, juicy green grapes resting atop the pile.

Inspecting the fruit, Judah squatted as he singled out a crisp red apple, a magnificent, mouth-watering orange, and, of course, the cluster of grapes. After picking the fruit, Judah rose and announced that he needed a volunteer to toss the fruit for him. Instantly, America raised his hand and begged to be picked, determined to get the amazing job of being the fruit thrower for the expert knife-thrower. At least, America thought tossing fruit for the expert knife-thrower was amazing, as well as adventurous and exciting, and if there was one thing America relished, it was adventure. Indeed, America was dying to be the one to throw the fruit for Judah, regardless of the possibility that the knife could hit America himself instead of the fruit. As soon as America volunteered, England eyed America as if he was insane.

"Do you realize that if he should miss, you could end up being the target?" England pointed out while America raised his hand frantically.

"He won't miss!" America waved England away with one hand, and he desperately gesticulated with the other hand, showing his eagerness to be chosen. Since America was the only one volunteering, Judah beckoned to him. With a triumphant gleam in his blue eyes, America ducked underneath the wire blocking off the area, and dashed over to Judah, who was only a meter away. Judah handed the fruit to America and simply instructed, "Apple, orange, single grape, toss them directly upward individually; follow my instructions."

"Right, you tell me when, and I'll toss the apple first, and then you slice that, and then we do the same with the orange, and the grape is the big finale, am I right?" America clarified with a wave of his hand. Judah nodded while an amused smile spread across his scar-torn face. Walking over to the target, Judah began to feel apprehensive over what he was about to attempt. He had sliced a grape in the air before, but that was  _years_  ago…could he still do it? When he reached the target, he firmly pulled the knife out of the wood. Turning around, Judah spotted America right beside him.

"Hold the apple," Judah advised America as they walked back to the edge of the roped-off area. As they walked, Judah indicated the spot for America to sit while tossing the fruit. Reaching the place he pointed out, Judah instructed America to toss the apple directly upward. For a few minutes, Judah watched as America tossed the apple into the air, caught it, and tossed it again. Judah assumed his position. While America repeated tossing the apple, Judah calculated everything. He timed how long it took the apple to reach its highest point. Judah calculated the approximate distance from where he was standing to where America was sitting as well as how far the target was behind America. He even guessed at the dimensions of the apple itself. Finally, Judah signaled for America to throw the apple one last time as he readied his blade. Throwing the knife, Judah watched as the blade stabbed the center of the wooden target, and sliced the apple in half on its way there.

Relieved at his first success, Judah readied his next blade, and began to relax. Meanwhile, America was amazed at what just occurred. He held the freshly cut apple in his hand, and grinned in excitement. The crowd behind the protective ropes whispered together, also impressed. However, the spectators were still waiting for the grape. As the people watched, Judah ordered America to hold the orange. After numerous more calculations, Judah ordered America to toss the orange. Subsequently, Judah sliced the orange, although not perfectly in half. While the orange hit the ground, the blade slammed into the right side of the target, where Judah wanted it to go. Again, everyone was impressed, especially America. As America selected a single grape and displayed it, the crowd's anticipation peaked. Now, they would finally witness whether Judah truly did have the accuracy to slice that grape! Indeed, the entire crowd was excited, leaning close, and hanging on every moment…except for Israel. She shivered in fear. Again, she wondered what would happen if her brother missed.

_Why did I have to open my big mouth and say he could do this? Indeed, years ago he sliced a grape midair. However, will he do it now? If he fails, everyone will be insulting him for it…and it will all be my fault! The one time I open my mouth I cause so much trouble! I should just remain silent….That's what so many people want, anyway—for me to remain silent perpetually….At least, Iraq keeps telling me to be quiet…perhaps it is best that I do remain quiet—look how much trouble I caused already! My poor brother…this is all my fault—I shouldn't have spoken so pridefully…then again, it wasn't exactly prideful, I mean, I wasn't trying to be…at least…I just wanted to…why did I say he could slice a grape midair? Well, it is amazing—isn't it okay to speak of one's brother's talent to make a conversation more interesting? Oh…maybe I was being a bit prideful…then again, it was true at one time…my poor brother, I've caused so much trouble…I'm sorry I ever spoke…_

These were some of the thoughts pricking her mind and heart as she watched her brother prepare to throw his final knife. If her life had been slightly different, if she had kinder masters, she wouldn't have tormented herself like this. Tragically, for centuries people made her believe that she was nothing but trouble, and after hearing the same lies repeatedly, she believed them. The wounds on her heart ached and moaned, telling her that she truly was the cause of the problem, even though she truly wasn't. England was the one who insisted on testing Judah, thus this test was at least partially his idea. Israel simply sparked the fire England flamed. Furthermore, if Judah failed, it would be  _his_  failure, not hers.

Nevertheless, Israel's wounds insisted that if Judah failed, whatever ensued would be directly  _her_  fault. While Israel panicked, Judah calmly calculated whether he should throw the knife blade first or handle first. Truthfully, he was nervous, but he was much calmer. Something deep within Judah instructed him to focus on the task, not the crowd, not the outcome, simply the task…and he did. Eventually, he ordered America to throw the grape. Before the grape reached its zenith, Judah flung the knife towards it, and prayed that he would actually hit the grape.

Watching his knife slam into the target some distance away from America, Judah hoped he sliced the grape. The crowd wondered if he sliced the grape. Israel prayed fervently that Judah sliced the grape. Leaning forward, the crowd attempted to see if the grape was cut or not. Desperately, Israel craned her neck from side to side, but no matter what angle she spied from, the grape was simply too far away and too small to see. Meanwhile, America was staring open-mouthed at the grape lying on the ground in front of him. After several moments, England couldn't stand it any longer and demanded, "Well, tell us already! Did he do it?" Slowly, America picked up the grape, and held it next to his face. Leaping up, he loudly exclaimed,

"HE DID IT! IT'S SLICED UNEVENLY-BUT IT'S SLICED!"

Immediately, America ran around the edge of the crowd, excitedly displaying the halves of the grape in his hands. Student after student gasped as America brought the proof of Judah's talent. Soon, everyone was applauding. Relieved beyond words, Israel sighed deeply, and then cheered for her brother joyfully. Judah grinned, also relieved. Slowly, Judah nodded at the student body behind the protective ropes, and wondered when his next knife-throwing challenge would be, and  _what_  it would be. Relaxed and pleased with his victory, Judah silently thanked God for his success, and retrieved his blades.

When Judah entered the school, the entire student body followed him with their congratulations and their volley of questions. Judah couldn't remember the last time so many people were desperate to better acquaint themselves with him. Usually, hardly anyone besides his sister wanted to befriend him, and now, suddenly, dozens of people were questioning him, eager to be close to him. Of course, not every student was interested in befriending him, but there were many who were. Judah wasn't sure if these people would stay this friendly to him or if it would all fade away with time. Partially, he wanted to be accepted, and partially, he didn't care. He was relieved that people were being friendly with him, but he wondered if their friendliness would vanish.

Throughout his life, Judah was conquered by nation after nation, and he quickly learned that many times people  _say_  they are friends, but are truly enemies in disguise. Numerous times his captors abused him or someone attempted to kill him or his sister, hence he grew into the rugged, nearly silent, war-torn, peace-craving, muscular nation that he was now. Over the centuries, he also found that there was only one thing that truly comforted him: spending time with God. Indeed, there were many times that his sister could not calm him or ease the burdens he felt inside, but praying and studying the Scriptures did. If he hadn't learned to rely on God for comfort in the hardest times as well as the easy times, he would have surely become an angry, bitter, violent man. Currently, he did have a slight temper, but it only arose when someone insulted his sister. Thankfully, he learned to control his anger. However, if he had chosen to walk away from his God and follow his emotions, he would have surely murdered a thousand men. Indeed, Judah's religion affected him as much as his past. As he entered the school that day after slicing the grape, he found himself with a prime opportunity to explain his beliefs to others while they questioned him about his skill.

While the crowd followed after Judah, pestering him with a barrage of questions, Switzerland stood on the outskirts, marveling over what he had witnessed. Slowly, he followed the edges of the crowd back into the school, replaying the slicing of the grape in his mind. It happened so fast it seemed impossible, and yet, it happened. It seemed impossible, but it truly occurred. Pondering what he observed only a few minutes ago, Switzerland entered the school among the last of the crowd. Beside Switzerland was his devoted sister, Liechtenstein. After some time of silence, Liechtenstein managed to bring a request to her brother.

"Big Brother, can I…ask you something?" Liechtenstein timidly began.

"Huh—oh, of course, what is it?" Switzerland responded while snapping back into the present.

"Brother…I understand that you usually do not spend time with many people other than me, however, I feel it would be best if you made at least  _one_  friend while we are here. That is all I ask, Brother, that you simply make  _one_  extra friend," Liechtenstein carefully requested.

Switzerland gawked at his sister. The doting older brother side of him wished to say, "Oh, yes, anything for you," while the hermit side of him wanted to shout, "no way—I'm not making friends with any of these  _foreigners_! I've met them, isn't that enough for you? Don't you understand that I don't trust people? Are you honestly asking me to make a _friend_  with one of them? You must be joking." While Switzerland silently puzzled over what to say, memories fluttered back to him. He gazed into his sister's green, hopeful eyes, and remembered a time when he was younger, and  _did_  have a friend. In the past, he was friends with his neighbor, Austria. They used to spend much time together. Unfortunately, part of that time consisted of Switzerland bailing Austria out of a failed battle. Bailing Austria annoyed Switzerland greatly.

Nevertheless, he stepped in repeatedly to help his one friend. Switzerland truly tried to help Austria not only by bailing him out of disaster, but also by instructing him in better fighting techniques. It is unclear whether any of the battle training stuck in Austria's music-consumed brain. Regardless, Switzerland and Austria remained friends for years. Tragically, something caused Switzerland to draw away from Austria. Now, he denied ever being friends with Austria. In fact, he tried not to think of Austria at all…until he spent time with Liechtenstein. Switzerland devoted himself to being a wonderful brother to Liechtenstein, but something about her reminded him of Austria. Whenever he spent time with her, Switzerland couldn't help but remember his days with Austria.

Part of him wanted to draw away from her as well, to forget what happened, while most of him doted on her regardless. Indeed, there were many times that he would do  _anything_  to please her. Now, here he was beside her, and all she was asking him to do was make a friend. Switzerland remained speechless before her. It was as if two gears in a clock shifted out of alignment, causing the entire clock to stall. Even though there were a thousand objections he had to making a friend, Switzerland was completely lost for words.

"What…Why do you want me to have a friend?" Switzerland finally responded.

"Well…I was thinking the other day…what if my boss ordered me to marry someone far from you, and you had no one else to spend time with? I don't want you to feel lonely, so I want you to make at least  _one_  friend to talk to if I am not around," Liechtenstein clarified.

"Liechtenstein, you know I am a hermit. I am perfectly fine being alone—why do you think I would get lonely?" Switzerland parried quietly.

"Well, wouldn't you miss me?" Liechtenstein asked.

"What do you mean? Of course I would miss you!" Switzerland exclaimed indignantly.

"Would you be sad if I was far away from you for a long time?" Liechtenstein inquired.

"Of course I would—you are my little sister!" Switzerland answered.

"That is why I want you to have a friend," Liechtenstein replied. After hearing that, Switzerland paused in consideration. While trying to find some sort of logical objection to her words, Switzerland studied his shoes. Finally, he felt he had no choice but to agree to Liechtenstein's request.

"Fine…tell me who to become friends with, and I'll…try to…befriend them," Switzerland begrudgingly agreed.

"Big Brother, I shouldn't  _tell you_  who to be friends with—you should decide yourself," Liechtenstein responded quietly. Although she greatly desired her brother to make a friend, Liechtenstein didn't want to force her brother into a relationship with someone else. Of course, her brother was such a xenophobic hermit that she might as well tie him to someone in order to get him to make a friend. Her brother already understood this.

"Liechtenstein! You know I trust my finances more than I trust people! If you want me to make a friend, you will have to tell me who to be friends with, or I won't choose because I don't trust any of them!" Switzerland grumbled with exasperation.

"Well…you trust me, don't you?" Liechtenstein cautiously inquired.

"Why, of course I do—you're my sister, not some foreigner I just met!" Switzerland retorted.

"We weren't always siblings—you took care of me when I was in need, and accepted me into your home; can't you do that with someone else?" Liechtenstein pleaded as she studied her own shoes.

"Well…you needed my help!Tthese people…they…I mean…this is different," Switzerland blurted out while attempting to find the perfect excuse for staying unsocial. Finally, after several minutes of silence, Switzerland conceded.

"All right…you have an excellent point…I'll try—I said I would  _try_ —to make a friend, and I will  _try_ , but I don't know who to choose. If you wish me to have a companion, can't you just pick someone for me?" Switzerland remarked.

"Well…Uhm…" Liechtenstein began, unsure of whom to pick. Suddenly, she looked at her brother and inquired, "Who's your roommate?"

"Judah—wait, don't tell me you want me to befriend  _him_ ," Switzerland responded woefully.

"Well, you will be somewhat…obliged to spend time with him every day, considering he is your roommate," Liechtenstein commented, her mint-green eyes sparkling with a hopeful glee.

"But…Judah is…I've never even heard of him before! I doubt he's even a real nation! Furthermore, he's Jewish—I know hardly anything about Judaism—what am I supposed to say to him?" Switzerland moaned.

"Big brother, you said you would try, and you asked me who to try to befriend…" Liechtenstein reminded him gently. Realizing that his little sister had yet another valid point, Switzerland sighed, "Well, you are right—I did say that….As a man of honor, I will fulfill my word, and try to befriend Judah. Are you pleased yet?"

"Very pleased, big brother!" Liechtenstein declared as she hugged Switzerland.

"You are very trying sometimes, you know that?" Switzerland grumped while patting his sister's blonde head.

"I know, but I am trying to help you have a happy future," Liechtenstein answered while gazing at her brother lovingly. Slowly, Switzerland smiled at his sister. As he followed the edges of the crowd through the school back to the dormitory, Switzerland wondered how he was going to befriend Judah.

Meanwhile, people kept pounding Judah with questions as they swarmed around him like excited bees. Of course, Germany was part of that swarm. As the organizer of the newsletter club, Germany was determined to be the first to get any information from Judah. Unfortunately, most of the student body wanted the same thing. Although he tried to catch Judah's attention peacefully, Germany realized that he would probably have to, literally, beat everyone before getting to Judah. Finally, Germany plowed through the crowd and interjected, "Judah, as present representative of our newsletter club, I suggest you leave all the questions and answers for me, understood?"

Relieved that he had an excuse to stop talking, Judah nodded with a smile. Turning to the crowd, Germany sternly ordered everyone to leave Judah alone immediately. Although the crowd desperately wanted to talk to Judah, they didn't want to be on the wrong end of Germany's temper. Glaring and mumbling, the nations slumped away from Judah.

"Ve~, Judah, I've never seen someone as accurate with a knife as you are! Please tell me you won't hurt me with one of your daggers!" Italy addressed Judah with an obvious tone of fear in his voice. He was standing a safe distance from Judah, afraid to get too close.

"I won't—I only wish to defend myself, not harm others," Judah consoled.

"Oh, good! Now I don't have to worry!" Italy sighed happily as he trotted nearer to Judah.

"You deserve honor for your abilities," Japan quietly commented as he stepped towards them from a nearby hallway. Judah shrugged as if he was saying, "Maybe…maybe not."

Meanwhile, Israel was waiting for the crowd to thin out enough to find her brother. At last, Israel spotted Judah. Joyfully, proudly, Israel dashed up to her brother and flung her arms around him.

"I'm so relieved that you did it! You sliced a grape! I was worried that you would fail and it would all be my fault!" Israel expounded as she held his neck. Judah patted her back comfortingly. Before Judah spoke, Germany voiced what Judah was about to say.

"How would his failure be your fault?" Germany pried in confusion.

"Ve~, it wouldn't be your failure if  _he_  failed—right?" Italy added with a puzzled expression. Japan stepped closer as Israel shifted her gaze to the three youths behind her. Suddenly, she realized that men were right behind her, speaking to her, eyeing her. Fearfully she clung to her brother and studied the marble pattern on the floor.

"I…I don't know…" Israel timidly replied. Seeing his sister needed a perfect excuse to run away, Judah declared,

"We should get to our rooms—it's sunset." After he said that, the other boys realized how late it was.

"Oh, you're right. Good night, Brother," Israel quickly stated before speeding away to her dorm. Germany and the others wondered why she ran off so fast. Turning to Judah, Germany asked, "Is she feeling well?"

Judah nodded casually.

"She can certainly run fast!" Italy remarked, watching her vanish down a hallway.

Slowly, Judah headed for his room.

"Judah, do you want me to interview you now, or tomorrow?" Germany inquired, trying not to sound too hopeful.

"If you wish, you may now," Judah replied calmly.

Instantly whipping out a pen and pad, Germany started interviewing Judah.

"Who first taught you how to handle knives?" Germany began.

"My Father," Judah answered as he continued walking. Japan closely followed Judah, hoping to hear everything.

"Why did you become so skilled with them?" Germany continued.

"Germany, does it matter why?" Italy interrupted.

"Yes, it does!" Germany exclaimed, irritated that Italy would ask such a question. Judah smiled in amusement.

"All right! You didn't have to get so angry with me!" Italy moaned.

"Well, I'm trying to interview Judah—you can either help, or go away," Germany retorted sternly.

"Fine, I'll stay here and be quiet—happy?" Italy resolved.

"…Fine," Germany agreed, wishing Italy would leave instead of bothering him.

Pondering how to answer Germany's question, Judah became solemn. He considered his past, and combed through his memories, attempting to find why he became skilled with knives. Obviously, he practiced, and that was clearly  _how_  he became skilled, but Judah was sure that Germany wanted a less obvious answer. Besides, Germany asked  _why_ , not  _how_. At length, Judah realized what the why was.

"My father's dying request to me was, 'take care of your sister.' Ever since then, someone has tried to kill us. Hence, I learned how to defend my sister and myself to the best of my abilities. That is why I am skilled with any blade, including knives," Judah disclosed slowly, attempting to hold his emotions. It was the most he said to one person at that school so far. Italy and Japan speechlessly stared at Judah at this revelation. Germany studied Judah's face, and read the deep, inner emotions written in Judah's eyes. Germany supposed that Judah had a tough life simply from his scars, but now Germany witnessed a glimpse of how terrible Judah's life was. Germany greatly respected Judah after that. Once he asked some basic questions, Germany left Judah alone, and made sure to bring Italy and Japan with him. Eventually, everyone returned to his room.

In his dorm room, waiting for his roommate, Judah considered what occurred that day. He wondered if his sister would ever feel comfortable around so many men. He wondered if people would stop asking him questions. He wondered if tomorrow would be more eventful. Meanwhile, Switzerland was in the restroom, staring at his pajamas in the mirror. Although He adored his little sister, Switzerland did not adore the pajamas she sewed for him. Perhaps it was an accident, perhaps she did it on purpose, whatever the cause, Liechtenstein sewed him pink, frilly pajamas.

Here he was, the intimidating hermit, who could possibly shoot a bird's eye in the dark with his rifle, wearing pink pajamas like a girly-girl tourist. Partially, he wanted to sleep in his clothes instead of his pajamas as he had the night before. Simultaneously, he respected Liechtenstein and knew she wouldn't appreciate it if he refused to wear them. Hence, he stepped into his dorm room, looking like a frilly, pink...whatever the opposite of manly-man was. Hearing Switzerland open the door, Judah glanced over and noticed Switzerland's pink attire.

While Judah silently observed Switzerland, Switzerland grouchily folded his arms and mumbled, "If you have something to say about my nightwear, say it now."

Switzerland deliberated how in the world he was supposed to befriend Judah if Judah thought he was a…not-so-masculine man. While Judah was pondering what to say about Switzerland's…attire, Switzerland groaned inwardly as he yelled at himself in thought.  _Why did I have to agree to try to befriend Judah? Why didn't I just say 'no, Liechtenstein, I don't need a friend—I have my goats?' Well, I said I would try, I didn't say I would actually become friends with anyone…Then again, I haven't actually tried to get to know anyone yet. Of course, now that my good first impression is gone, I suppose I won't…wait…my good first impression was yesterday. I don't think I left a good impression on Judah then either—I hardly spoke to him. Wonderful! He probably thinks that I am rude and feminine for wearing these pajamas and hardly talking to him! AUGH! Why did I have to agree to attempt to make a friend? Then again, Liechtenstein only wants what's best for me…Oh…Well, if Judah insults me, which he probably will, I'll have a prime excuse for not making a friend. There! I'll just wait for him to insult me, and then go to bed, and tomorrow I'll say I tried…and then Liechtenstein will probably inform me that I did not try hard enough._  Switzerland sighed as he considered this, and waited for Judah's comment.

After a few quiet moments, Judah commented, "You seem comfortable."

Surprised at the simple, non-insulting remark, Switzerland probed, "Is that all?"

Gripping his chin in one hand, Judah studied Switzerland's…outfit, considering what else he could point out. At length, he answered,

"That pink complements your eyes."

Stunned at what he just heard, Switzerland lowered his arms and gawked at Judah. Did Judah seriously say that a certain shade of pink looked well with Switzerland's mint-green eyes? There he was, mister tough guy knife-throwing champion with grizzly scars down his cheek, complementing—no, saying the  _pajamas_  complemented Switzerland's eyes. That sounded like something  _France_  would say, not Judah. Usually, France was the one with any fashion opinion input, and usually Judah was the one with hardly any verbal input at all. Switzerland was dumbfounded at Judah's remark…for about a minute. Indignantly Switzerland uttered, "This shade of pink complements my eyes? Why on earth would you say that?"

"You asked a question; I answered," Judah elucidated with a shrug.

"That's all—you just wanted to answer?" Switzerland interrogated Judah, determined to find the underlying answer. If there was something weird about Judah, Switzerland wanted to know  _now_ , and not figure it out later.

"Well…mint green and pink look pleasing together," Judah casually defended himself. Although he was not an artist, he did appreciate colors, especially since his sister loved drawing and painting…whenever she could scrounge up something to use to draw or paint.

After several more moments of confusion, Switzerland decided that Judah's personality was more complex than he first assumed. Lounging on his bed, Switzerland eyed Judah silently for a length of time. Judah stared back at Switzerland, anticipating a stream of questions. Instead of pounding Judah with questions, Switzerland relaxed, satisfying himself with the realization that mint green did look pleasing with pink and that Judah was probably mentioning that fact simply because he didn't know what else to say. After all, it was logical—pink goes with green, nothing strange about that…although Switzerland still couldn't fathom that Judah would point out something like that. Once Switzerland decided to ignore Judah's unusual remark, he reclined on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Seeing that Switzerland looked away from him, Judah leaned against the wall at the head of his bed, also eyeing the ceiling. Silence flitted around the room for a space of time. Finally, Judah questioned, "Where did you acquire the pajamas?"

"Liechtenstein sewed them for me," Switzerland answered with a simultaneous hint of pride and embarrassment.

"She enjoys sewing?" Judah inquired curiously.

"Yes…she does," Switzerland replied, remembering all the times he spotted her sewing.

"She's a friendly young lady," Judah remarked positively.

Switzerland's guard shot up, suspicious of Judah's remarks concerning his sister, but he forced himself to semi-relax, considering that Liechtenstein  _was_  a friendly young lady.

"She is…" Switzerland admitted while cautiously glancing at Judah, studying his facial expression suspiciously. Once again, silence stomped around the room, demanding SOMETHING to be said to break it. As Switzerland stared at the ceiling again, he considered his promise to Liechtenstein, and he forced himself to ask Judah at least one question.

"Judah…besides knife-throwing, what do you enjoy as a hobby?" Switzerland awkwardly asked.

"Knife-throwing isn't my hobby…I learned because I had no choice," Judah gently corrected Switzerland.

For a few seconds, Switzerland observed Judah again, and considered what he said. Switzerland contemplated how hard Judah's life was, and gained a semblance of respect for Judah, even though he was a foreigner. Beginning to slightly warm up to Judah, Switzerland reiterated,

"Well…what is your hobby, then?"

Ruminating on Switzerland's question, Judah lay on his bed quietly. He wasn't sure what he did that counted as a 'hobby.' Truthfully, Judah had hardly any free time at home, especially since Iraq kept coming up with new chores to occupy Judah and Israel's time after they finished their daily tasks. In fact, free time was so scarce for Judah that he counted every spare moment as a blessing. If that blessing involved spending some time with his sister, he was doubly grateful. Thankfully, Judah always found free time every day, whether it was before bed, early in the morning, or between meals. However, he wasn't supposed to be thinking about whether or not he actually had free time, but what he  _did_  with that free time. Contemplating whether he actually had a hobby, Judah realized that there was one thing he absolutely relished doing with his spare time.

Although he didn't call it a hobby, it was a major part of his life. He would stay up late and wake up early to ensure that he would always have time to do this one thing. This one thing was sometimes the only thing that comforted him in the midst of wars, conquerors, tormentors, and whatever else came his way. That one thing was studying the Scriptures, and spending time with God. Technically, it was two things, but Judah married them into one over time. When he studied Scripture, he spent time with God. When he spent time with God, he would most likely pray about something he read in the Scriptures.

Recognizing that this was what he adored doing, Judah straightened up at the head of his bed. Then he deliberated whether studying the Word of God counted as a 'hobby.' After all, to Judah, studying the Bible wasn't something he casually did when he had a few spare seconds. To Judah, the Scriptures were life, comfort, water, air, love, wisdom, and wonder. When Judah unrolled a scroll of Scripture, he did so with respect and excitement. To Judah, the Bible wasn't a scroll sitting on a shelf, begging to be cracked open once a week, but the most exciting scrolls of truth in the universe. Moreover, to Judah, God wasn't a distant being staring down at him, but a friend, father, comforter, as well as a righteous judge who plainly warned Judah when he was doing wrong. When Judah spent time with God, he was renewed, revived, and reassured that he was loved, and that what he was doing actually mattered.

Of course, it wasn't always so. At one time, in his childhood, Judah didn't focus on God or studying Torah or anything like that. Indeed, he prayed everyday and followed God, but he didn't spend that much time personally with God, or studying Scriptures. All of that changed, however, when Judah's earthly father died. Judah clearly recalled the gruesome scene in his mind. He remembered his father's body lying before him, lifeless and still. He remembered the intense fear and despair he felt as he witnessed his mother die alongside his father. Those images were forever burned into his mind. When his parents were slain, Judah found himself at a crossroads: to forgive Rome as his father would have instructed, or to seek revenge.

For years, Judah struggled with this decision, flip-flopping between the two in agony day and night. His emotional pain and his physical torment demanded revenge and rebellion, while his love for his father and his inner devotion to God pleaded forgiveness as his earthly father instructed. There was a war raging within him. At one point, he became obsessed with revenge, and daily plotted ways of killing Rome. He never tried any of them, but he re-played them so many times that it was as if he was killing Rome a thousand times a day. After so long of this, Judah realized that plotting revenge wasn't filling the deep hole in his heart. Eventually, he chanced across some scrolls of Scripture that his father copied long before. Miraculously, Rome had not found or destroyed them, and they were in peak condition, although clearly aging. Judah hid them, and began to read the scrolls as he never had before. He cried out to God as he never had before in the midst of his studies, and the comfort he so desperately craved finally came to him.

Judah never forgot how thick the peace came upon him; it was like a calming blanket. He never forgot the love he felt from God; it was indescribably wonderful, warm and joyful. Those moments were gently painted into his mind for eternity. Those moments were the reason why he studied the scriptures as if he was eating desert: he studied them lovingly, gladly, and thoroughly. Over the centuries, he learned so much, including how to forgive under any circumstances, which was tested repeatedly. Indeed, he still had plenty of opposition, but his mindset had changed, and it affected the rest of his life. As Judah studied scriptures and spent time with God, he taught his sister what he learned. Quickly, she also found comfort in God and the Scriptures. They both became true lovers of God, because they found that when there was no comfort, God had comfort for them. As their earthly father informed them before his death, God was good, no matter what happened. After ruminating on these things in his mind, Judah answered Switzerland's question.

"I don't call it a hobby, but I enjoy studying scriptures."  
" Oh…which scriptures?" Switzerland probed, wanting something more specific than simply 'Scriptures.' There were dozens of 'Scriptures' out there, each with its own religion. Switzerland wanted to know exactly what Judah meant—especially since Liechtenstein insisted on them becoming friends.

Sliding off his bed, Judah strode over to his dresser as he explained,

"I study the  _Tanakh_ , and the  _Brit Chadasha_ —the  _Tanakh_  is what is commonly referred to as the 'Old Testament' while the  _Brit Chadasha_  is what is commonly referred to as the 'New testament.'"

"Ah…what are you doing now?" Switzerland inquired as he straightened up in bed, observing Judah's movements.

"You'll see…" Judah trailed off as he sat on the ground, opened the bottom drawer of his dresser and pushed aside some clothes. Seconds later, he spotted what he was looking for and tenderly lifted a cloth-covered scroll, holding it as if it was a baby. Cautiously, he lifted the cloth off the aged scroll. As carefully as possible, Judah rested it on the ground, and began to unroll it. Curiously, Switzerland leaned closer and noted the respectful, meticulous way Judah was unrolling the scroll. When the scroll was spread out enough, Judah glanced at Switzerland, and patted the floor next to him, as if to say, 'come, sit with me!' Although Switzerland was suspicious, he stepped out of bed, slipped over to Judah, and kneeled beside him. Observing the scroll, Switzerland noted how excellent the condition was of the parchment, despite being clearly antiqued. Switzerland didn't recognize the foreign writing, but he guessed what it was.

"Is this…Hebrew?" Switzerland asked.

Judah nodded.

"Well…what is it?" Switzerland continued.

"Genesis," Judah announced. Although Switzerland was no theologian, he knew that Genesis was the first book of the Bible—the name itself said what it was, a book of beginnings.

"Right…is this entire scroll Genesis?" Switzerland probed, fearing he asked a ridiculous question.

"This scroll is the  _Torah_ —the five books written by Moses—Genesis is the first, then Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy, as you would name them," Judah clarified calmly.

"Oh…how do you tell where they end?" Switzerland inquired curiously, thankful that Judah hadn't insulted his simple questions…yet. All that was on the parchment was writing—no chapter headings, no numbers indicating verses, just the words, sentences and paragraphs. Switzerland couldn't tell one line from another. How did one tell where it ended?

"Read it," Judah remarked simply.

By this time, Switzerland was wondering if he was asking the dumbest questions on the planet, or if Judah was the most understanding person in the school. Partially, Switzerland wanted to know more about Judah and his scroll, especially since he, Switzerland, hadn't seen a scroll in ages. However, he was afraid to ask a question that would lead to an insult. On top of that, Judah was still a foreigner, and Switzerland still didn't like foreigners. Indeed, if he was going to be friends with this person, Switzerland had a mountain to overcome. Meanwhile, Judah wanted to tell Switzerland all about what he studied and learned, but he didn't want to overload Switzerland with too much information at one time. Instead, he wanted Switzerland to ask the questions. As the two young men observed the writing on the parchment, Judah acknowledged,

"I copied this from a scroll my father copied."

"You did? How long did it take?" Switzerland pried in fascination. The only book copiers Switzerland knew were printing houses. Of course, Switzerland sensed that a Torah scroll was different…especially since it was on parchment. Meanwhile, Judah was mulling over exactly how long it took him to copy the one scroll. Although he couldn't remember the exact amount of time, he knew it would have been shorter if he had more spare time to copy. At length, he estimated,

"I believe it was around two years."

"For this one scroll? Two entire years—I mean, it has thickness, but two entire years…" Switzerland's objections trailed off as he considered how busy Judah must be at his home.

"I copy Scriptures letter by letter, not line by line. I also count the spaces, letters, and words—yes, it was two years," Judah rationalized slowly.

"Wait—are you implying that you write one letter, look at the original, look at the next letter…measure the spaces…and write another letter?" Switzerland recurred in surprise, making sure he heard correctly.

Judah firmly nodded, and added,

"Then I count every space in the word, every letter in the word, the space between that word and the last one, and write the next letter—I must copy it perfectly."

"What if you err?" Switzerland posed quickly, still attempting to fathom the complex, tedious process Judah was describing.

"Destroy it," Judah stated solemnly.

For a few seconds, Switzerland stared at Judah, dumbfounded.

"What if you were on the last letter?" Switzerland demanded indignantly.

"Destroy it," Judah repeated seriously.

"What—can't you scratch it out and re-write it, I mean—are you serious?" Switzerland interrogated Judah disbelievingly. Judah looked Switzerland eye-to-eye, and declared with authority,

"No—the Word of God must have  _no_  mistakes."

Switzerland gazed at the Torah scroll, amazed that Judah could have completed it in only two years. Then, he asked THE question.

"Did you…ever have to…throw out a scroll?"

Judah nodded somberly, and confessed,

"I stayed up too late; I was on the last sentence."

"You can't be…you had to…oh, no, you did not…" Switzerland trailed off, barely uttering the words as Judah soberly nodded.

"I won't make that mistake twice," Judah firmly declared.

"Was it…the scroll before this one?" Switzerland inquired, feeling as if he was going too far with the questions.

Judah shook his head, answering with, "The one after."

"I'm terribly sorry," Switzerland consoled, finding an entirely new respect for Judah rising within himself. Judah grinned, remarking

"Thank-you...do not make my mistake…ever."

"I'll try not to…" Switzerland promised soberly, determined to never stay up late and copy any book by hand, even if it wasn't a Hebrew  _Torah_.

"So…Tell me, do all of your people copy scripture so thoroughly?" Switzerland requested, wondering if he should stop asking questions or find out more.

Judah nodded firmly.

"If they are copying Scripture, yes. The Word of God must have no mistakes," Judah repeated sternly. Switzerland nodded understandingly, and gazed at the scroll with renewed awe.

"Would you like me to teach you anything?" Judah posed the question with a hint of hopeful excitement in his voice.

Eyeing Judah, Switzerland didn't reply for a while. Partially, he didn't want to keep talking to a foreign man he hardly knew. On the other hand, Switzerland had promised his little sister he would TRY to make a friend…talking was part of trying…. Eventually, Switzerland choked out,

"Well…if you…wish."

That night, Judah began to instruct Switzerland in the  _Torah_ , and the two began to bond. (Note: I said 'began to bond,' not, 'they instantly bonded,' get the picture?) At the end of the eventful day, this was the moment that began a deep bond between these two young men. I wish I could go into their friendship more, but I fear I haven't the time…perhaps that is a story for another day.

Meanwhile, Israel was readying for bed, and India was talking up a hurricane.

"You know, Israel, I think your brother is one of the most amazing men I have ever met!" India declared while brushing her hair.

"You said that five times now," Israel commented with an amused smile.

"And I'll probably say it five times more!" India added, her huge brown eyes sparkling with admiration, wonder and excitement. Israel chuckled, her ice-blue eyes also glinting with excitement, as well as a semblance of relief as she relived the day's events in her mind. Israel smiled as she snuggled under her covers, proud of her brother's achievement. As Israel started to fall asleep, India pondered if she should ask that _one_  question that she had periodically desired to ask Israel. Finally, India put her brush in the nightstand drawer, and quickly blurted out,

"Israel—I was wondering, please don't feel offended by this, but, I was wondering—how did you get your scar?"

Israel opened her eyes and straightened up in bed. She gazed at India, considering whether she should answer. The candle on the nightstand flickered, as if desperate to hear the answer for itself. In time, Israel decided that she would open up to India, at least slightly.

"Many years ago, Rome gave me this scar…" Israel confided.

"Rome…you must have been very young," India quietly determined.

Israel nodded.

"I was but a child…" Israel admitted. Remembering all the pain she suffered through the centuries, Israel began to sigh. Suddenly, she realized that she never confided her life story in anyone she met. Indeed, she wanted someone to talk to, to unburden herself to, but she didn't have anyone like that, except for her brother and God—both of whom already knew what happened to her. It was comforting to speak to them, but she wanted someone else to speak to about her past—someone she could give the details to who didn't know, who wanted to know more. She found it helped to pray about her past, telling God what was troubling her, but somewhere deep inside, she still craved a confidant. Perhaps India could be trusted. After a few, awkward silent moments, Israel decided that India could be trusted, and began to narrate her back-story to India. Thus ended the first day of school, which was truly an eventful day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to reiterate, thank-you for reading this far!
> 
> In case you haven't noticed, this story is strongly based in history, hence, I would like to present some facts behind the fiction:
> 
> I made India Israel's friend because, believe it or not, in 2009 AD India was found to be the most pro-Israel country.  
> (Is there anyone else that was surprised by that besides me?)
> 
> On another subject,
> 
> It is possible to slice a grape in the air with a throwing knife.  
> Incredibly, it has happened before.
> 
> Anyway, for those of you who are confused at the slang America is using, I would like to explain that I am using slang from the time period America is in currently.
> 
> Although I have not put an exact date on this part of the story, I imagine it to be some time before World War I.
> 
> Why? Well, in Hetalia, the main characters are out of high school by WWI or so, hence I suspected that if they were in high school, it would be some time in the 1800's.
> 
> Here is one of those times when I have trouble reconciling Hetalia with history.
> 
> In the 1800's, there were no miniskirts in the US that I know of. However, the school uniform for Hetalia involves miniskirts.
> 
> See the problem?
> 
> I decided that this is one moment where I must ignore the fine details of history to be accurate to Hetalia.
> 
> Let's just say that the countries wear modern clothing ahead of time.
> 
> Anyway, it is true that Jews copy Torah and other Scriptures incredibly meticulously-letter by letter, space by space, word by word, sentence by sentence, and if there is one mistake, they throw it out. (Is anyone here impressed by that besides me?)
> 
> Anyway, it is highly unlikely that the Jewish Scriptures are copied incorrectly, in case you were wondering.
> 
> One more topic:
> 
> I made Israel Italy and Romano's babysitter because I assumed that, if she was Rome's servant/slave, he would eventually ask her to watch over his grandsons. Furthermore, while she was under Rome, Israel would most likely come into contact with anyone else under Rome, such as France, who was known as Gaul at the time, if I remember correctly.
> 
> Hopefully now there is nothing left to confuse you.
> 
> Thank-you for reading, please keep going!
> 
> ~+~ PioneeringAuthor ~+~


	4. Growing Closer; Building Tension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we start, I would like to apologize in case the previous chapters seemed too lengthy. Although I didn't want to write lengthy chapters of more than 10,000 words, I had no choice because I had to explain and introduce everything. Now that you know everyone, the next chapters should be shorter, depending on what happens. As for this chapter, I have some more character information, a scene or two, and then on to the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> ~+~ PioneeringAuthor ~+~
> 
> P.S. Listen, whether you write me a review is your choice, but I will tell you this: it lets me know what you are thinking. For your information, I know how many people are viewing this, and NOT knowing what they are thinking is INCREDIBLY nerve-racking.
> 
> It is almost as if I am on trial, and I have no idea what the judge or jury is thinking.
> 
> Please, if you even vaguely appreciate one line in this story, please let me know.  
> If you do not like the story, please tell me at least ONE THING you liked, so that I feel better.

**Chapter 3**

**Growing Closer; Building Tension**

Several weeks passed swiftly. During these weeks, Israel and Judah better acquainted themselves with their roommates, as well as other nations. Judah discovered that Switzerland was notorious for carrying around weapons, and shooting at certain people who dashed across his lawn. Indeed, although Switzerland was 'neutral,' he had considerable military strength. Judah also noted that Switzerland had a taste for cheese and sausage. Furthermore, he observed how Switzerland was generally calm, except around Germany, Italy, and sometimes Austria. Sometimes other people upset him as well, but it mainly seemed to be Germany and Italy for some unknown reason.

Though it was obvious to Judah that Switzerland abhorred being surrounded by strangers and absolutely wished he could leave the school, Judah also perceived that Switzerland was a perseverant man who would finish what he started to the best of his abilities. Perhaps Switzerland had a type of honor he lived by. Judah quickly admired Switzerland. Although Switzerland was noted for his temper and trigger-happy moments, Judah discerned a kinder side to his roommate as he watched Switzerland with Liechtenstein. There was a true devotion between those two-a palpable, loving, brother-sister bond that reminded Judah of his relationship with Israel. As the weeks passed, Judah discovered things about Switzerland that gained true respect.

Conversely, Switzerland barely respected Judah. In fact, it took him about a week to tolerate Judah. Within another week, Switzerland slightly relaxed around him. At the end of the third week, Switzerland found himself willingly talking to Judah. By the end of the fifth week, Switzerland didn't mind having Judah for a roommate. Overall, he learned about Judah, whether or not he enjoyed it. When he first met Judah, Switzerland assumed Judah was a criminal type merely by looking at Judah's scars. Judah's unbelievable knife-throwing skills seemed to agree.… Then appeared the  _Torah._  As Judah revealed to Switzerland his  _Torah_  scroll, Switzerland's paradigm shifted. He viewed an unexpected side of Judah. On that night, Switzerland decided to be more open-minded to Judah, and forced himself to pay better attention to his roommate. As the weeks waned, Switzerland noticed more things about Judah, such as how easygoing and thoughtful he was, and slowly Switzerland began to… slightly respect him.

Israel also learned various things about her roommate besides the fact that India can talk a tornado out of whirl. Speaking of which, Israel learned that India spoke with her emotions—in other words, when Israel met India, India was so grateful to not be alone in her room anymore that she couldn't help but speak incessantly. (Albeit, India was naturally a chatterbox, but she was especially talkative when excited or overjoyed.) Indeed, India conversed about anything and everything, from how long France's hair was to the economic situations of all the nations she knew. She couldn't help it—she simply had to speak. Interestingly, Israel also learned that India LOVED cooking. If the day's agenda involved cooking, India was decidedly happy. She not only loved cooking, but also loved the color red.

However, she did  _not_  love England. Partially, she couldn't stand his half-burnt excuses for food, and partially, she felt oppressed by England. He wasn't horrible to her, but he wasn't India's idea of an ideal master either. For one thing, he had a habit of being rude. For another thing, his culture was clearly different from hers, and they often misunderstood each other. Furthermore, India's religion and England's religion were starkly different. Although England could have respected those differences, he chose to impose his views on India, which caused her to distaste everything about England. When flint and steel are rubbed together, sparks fly. Similarly, when India and England were left together for too long, they quarreled. Nevertheless, Israel found that she liked India, and was glad to have her for a roommate, even if she did have a habit of Insulting England, or talking for too long, or complaining about the school uniforms.

India also discovered that she greatly enjoyed having Israel for a roommate. India admired how friendly Israel was to the other girls, and how devoted she was to her spiritual beliefs. Although India's religion highly contrasted to Israel's, India didn't care—Israel accepted her, and in return, India accepted Israel. Indeed, India noted how kind Israel was to her. Furthermore, India appreciated how patient Israel was with her and was grateful that Israel didn't mind carrying on drawn-out conversations with her. In fact, India discovered that Israel was a fellow chatterbox…when not around men. From the day she met her, India recognized how Israel rarely looked men in the eye, and how she seemed petrified to be around any man except for her brother. India's compassionate heart cracked at this realization.

Indeed, even though she had a temper around certain British people she knew, who we will not directly name in this sentence, India was a kind-hearted woman who genuinely cared for her roommate, and who didn't want Israel to be afraid of anyone. Over the weeks, Israel confided more of her life to India, and India's heart broke all the more. India wished she could have been there for Israel when everything seemed to go wrong. Since she couldn't change the past, India determined to affect Israel's future for the better. Ultimately, India was highly grateful that Israel was her kind, patient, accepting, fascinating roommate, and wished to bring happiness to Israel's downtrodden life.

Unfortunately, not everyone accepted Israel and Judah. One day, as Judah was heading to class with Switzerland at his side, he happened to look down, and stopped short, realizing something.

"What is wrong?" Switzerland inquired, his guard rising as he spoke. While Judah carefully examined his clothing for something, Switzerland noticed that one of Judah's blue and white fringes was missing from the  _Tallit_  he wore under his shirt.

"I lost a  _tzitzit,_ " Judah informed Switzerland as he started scanning the ground.

Switzerland knew that  _tzitzit_  was the word for one of the special fringes, and he understood that they were important, but he didn't comprehend why Judah was growing nervous over it.

"Is it a necessity?" Switzerland questioned, calculating how small the odds were of finding a single fringe in a private school as large as the World Academy was.

Judah shot Switzerland a desperate glance that shouted, "If it wasn't necessary, would I really be mentioning it fifteen minutes before class?"

Understanding the gravity of the situation, Switzerland began pacing around, carefully combing the marble floors with his eyes. Meanwhile, all around them the hallways emptied as students entered their classes. Israel wasn't there beside them—Syria instructed her to walk with him to class, since he wanted to talk her head off about something he learned earlier. Hence, the two boys were alone, attempting to find a single  _tzitzit_  In an enormous school. Unfortunately, they had no alternative but to force themselves to go to class. On his way to class, Judah constantly hunted for his one  _tzitzit_ , hoping against the odds that he would find it. Switzerland did likewise, feeling it was his duty to help his roommate find something lost. Throughout the day, the two sought that aged, thin, knotted, single fringe despite how unlikely it was they would spot it. When Judah revealed to Israel what happened, she too rummaged around for it continually, but to no avail. Eventually, Liechtenstein noticed that her brother was seeking something, asked him what it was, and determined to help with the search. Soon after, Israel confided the problem to India, who began seeking the fringe as if her life depended on it. Of course, nobody found it…until suppertime.

As Judah carried his plate to a nearby table, he happened to browse the room, and sighted his  _tzitzit_  on the ground. After quickly setting his plate down, Judah briskly stepped to his fringe, and bent to pick it up. Israel glimpsed what was happening, and beamed with excitement…until she detected that Iraq was watching like a tiger about to pounce on its prey. Silently, Iraq walked over to Judah. As soon as Judah poked his fallen fringe, Iraq slammed his foot on the opposite end of the fringe. Judah recognized the boot in front of his nose—he polished it too many times to forget it. Cautiously lifting his gaze, Judah's thoughts were confirmed as he discerned Iraq glaring down at him with his cold, dark-brown eyes.

"Well, well, look who's groveling before me…" Iraq commented with a pleased grin. Gently, Judah tugged on his fringe, and realized that it was fast beneath Iraq's huge boot. Inwardly sighing, Judah gazed up at Iraq, pensive of what would occur next.

"You want this, don't you?" Iraq taunted, mockingly smiling down at his subordinate nation.

Slowly Judah nodded, knowing that it was best to cooperate with Iraq in these moments. Iraq chuckled as he continued with, "My, Mandatory Palestine…you lose so many things, don't you? You lost your parents, your home…your strange fringe thing you insist on wearing because you honestly believe God told you to wear it…. My, is there something you haven't lost? Tell me, have you lost your mind yet? After all, you don't stand a chance here, and yet, you insist on plodding along with your learning…."

Judah emotionally deflected the insults, since he was used to hearing them daily. Still, they weren't pleasant to listen to as they continued.

"Judah, listen, no matter how skilled you are, or how intelligent you are, you are still a  _slave_. You won't  _ever_  change that—you've always been a slave, and you will  _always_  stay a slave…remember your place, because you won't  _ever_  get out of it," Iraq affronted Judah with pure malice in every word.

While Iraq verbally abused Judah, Israel watched from a distance, afraid to stay where she was yet more afraid to anger Iraq. Switzerland was beside her, observing everything, determined to stay neutral whatever the case. Meanwhile, Iraq lifted his toes, allowing Judah to retrieve his  _tzitzit_. Again, Judah ignored the insults, reminding himself that it was all lies. For one thing, Judah wasn't  _always_  a slave. Indeed, he was always subordinate, but he was not always a slave. Moreover, he was one of the best students in the school. Judah knew Iraq abhorred him, and also knew that Iraq would say or do anything to damage him or Israel somehow. Calmly, Judah turned from Iraq and began to move away, when Iraq snapped, "I didn't dismiss you!"

Steadily, Judah turned his gaze to Iraq and respectfully asked,

"May I eat now?"

"…Fine," Iraq permitted.

Cautiously, Judah stepped away from Iraq, avoiding any further confrontation.

Israel sighed with relief as her brother approached. Stopping beside the table, Judah secured the  _tzitzit_  to his  _tallit_ , and met eyes with Israel. Judah smiled soothingly. Israel relaxed as she sat beside her brother.

"What did he say to you?" Switzerland demanded, ready to report anything to the principle.

As he reclined in his chair, Judah considered what to broadcast about Iraq's words. Detecting that Judah was hesitating because he wanted to avoid conflict, Switzerland leaned forward in his seat facing Judah, and whispered,

"If you do not wish to have trouble, just tell me and I'll keep it secret."

Judah's blue eyes met Switzerland's green ones. Judah pondered why Switzerland would be  _that_  interested in what occurred. He also pondered if it would be wise to confide the conversation in Switzerland. Eventually, Judah quietly uttered,

"I think it would be wise to not publicize this, but Iraq nearly threatened me."

"It seemed like it," Switzerland commented as he returned to his seat. Israel nervously eyed her brother, and he gave her a comforting side hug. Suddenly, Liechtenstein, who was walking with India, spotted them and joined their table along with India. Judah and Switzerland recounted what happened to the girls. India glared at Iraq from her seat. Thankfully, he didn't notice. Liechtenstein sighed with relief that no one was hurt. Overall, they were pleased that Judah recovered his fringe…and were also apprehensive of what Iraq would try next.

A few days later, during outdoor activities with some of the girls, something occurred which would shift Switzerland's paradigm yet again.  
As she was running during a game, Liechtenstein slipped, and crashed into the ground, her foot colliding into a large tree root. Instantly, excruciating pain shot through her leg. Leaning on her elbow, Liechtenstein gritted her teeth, waiting for the pain to cease…but it stayed. Soon, the other girls noticed, and hurried towards her.

"What is it?" Hungary asked with concern.

"I…don't know… my foot…hurts," Liechtenstein moaned as she sat on the grass, attempting to examine her foot without hurting it.

The girls huddled around her in worry. They gasped at the sight of Liechtenstein's deformed, foot, which was darkening into a deep bruise. By this time, Liechtenstein was desperately holding back tears, and failing.

"I'll get a nurse!" Seychelles announced as she sprinted towards the school building.

"My…brother—get—my—brother—please!" Liechtenstein chocked out between gasps of pain. Hungary rushed away immediately, while Ukraine kneeled beside Liechtenstein comfortingly. Belgium, a blonde-haired lady that wasn't noticed very often, cast about for something to help with, but couldn't find anything.  
Meanwhile, dashing through the hallways, Hungary spotted Switzerland standing near Judah and Israel and quickly panted to them, "Liechtenstein needs you!"

"What happened?" Switzerland demanded.

"Just—come-with—me—now!" Hungary hyperventilated as she dragged Switzerland along. Judah and Israel followed Hungary and Switzerland as they tore through the corridors. Of course, someone barked, "NO RUNNING IN THE HALLS!"

Halting suddenly, Hungary turned in desperate fury, and was about to yell back when she saw it was her husband, Austria, commanding them to cease running in the halls.

"Austria, Liechtenstein's in trouble!" Hungary explained swiftly. Austria's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Let's go—but no running in the halls!" Austria stated, clinging to the rules. As a member of the staff, Austria needed to cling to the rules at all costs.

Soon, they were at the scene. Liechtenstein was grasping her leg, tears streaming down her cheeks with the pain she felt. Ukraine and Belgium kneeled beside her, attempting to protect her foot. The group of girls around Liechtenstein parted, allowing Switzerland and the others to pass.

"Liechtenstein—what happened?" Switzerland demanded while his heart raced as he witnessed his adopted sister in severe pain.

"I…slipped and…my foot…hurts," Liechtenstein wailed quietly. Realizing that this moment demanded serious action, Austria started passing out orders to random bystanders. "You! Get a nurse! You—get her a pillow for her foot, and the rest of you, STAND BACK!"

The crowd obeyed and stepped away from Liechtenstein and her brother as Belgium ran off to get a pillow.

"Seychelles already went for a nurse," Ukraine explained, hoping she would be of some assistance.

"Good, hopefully she will be here soon," Austria replied, searching for any sign of Seychelles or the nurse.

"Let me inspect your foot," Switzerland directed Liechtenstein gently. Liechtenstein leaned back on her hands, wincing as her brother tenderly removed her sock and shoe. Liechtenstein's ankle was deformed, the foot being pushed slightly forward while a bone above her heel was pushed backwards. Thankfully, the bone didn't break through her skin, but it was clearly out of alignment, bruising her ankle darkly. Although Switzerland had a grasp of first aid, he wasn't sure what happened.

"It hurts when I try to move it…" Liechtenstein yelped, trying to keep herself calm. The onlookers were becoming worried, and cast about for any sign of a nurse heading their way. Stepping to the front, Judah surveyed the situation. He remembered times when his sister was injured and he provided all the medical attention for her. He was practically a doctor for her and himself. As he looked on, Judah read the worry in Switzerland's mint-green eyes, and the pain in Liechtenstein's green eyes. Judah knew he could help, but he also knew that Switzerland had trouble trusting anyone. On the other hand, Liechtenstein was hurt, and Judah suspected that he might be able to persuade Switzerland to least allow him to examine Liechtenstein. While Liechtenstein gritted her teeth in pain, Judah stepped forward and politely asked,

"May I examine her foot?"

Glancing at Judah, Switzerland hesitated. He needed someone to help his sister, but he barely trusted Judah.

"What harm could it be?" Liechtenstein pleaded, hoping Judah would have some sort of advice while they waited for the nurse.

"Let's wait for the proper medical authorities," Austria advised, wondering what was taking Seychelles so long.

Gazing at his sister in worry, Switzerland weighed his options. Begrudgingly, Switzerland decided that, perhaps, it would be fine to allow Judah to inspect Liechtenstein's foot…once.

Beckoning to Judah, Switzerland moved over as Liechtenstein attempted to move her foot, and then bit her hand in a jolt of pain. Switzerland nearly panicked as he wondered if his sister's foot was broken. Although it didn't seem broken, Switzerland wasn't sure. He hoped that Judah would detect something he hadn't noticed. Sitting on the grass in front of Liechtenstein, Judah softly handled her foot, gently turning it different directions to inspect its movement, as well as the condition of her skin.

After considering the problem, Judah detected that Liechtenstein's ankle became dislocated.

"Your ankle seems dislocated—I've seen this before," Judah announced to Liechtenstein gently.

"Are you sure?" Liechtenstein asked.

"Yes—my sister's ankle became dislocated once, as well as Syria's," Judah elucidated, reassuringly gazing into Liechtenstein's eyes.

"May I realign your ankle?" Judah inquired.

"Wait—what medical training do you have?" Switzerland demanded in a panic.

"Life without kindness forced me to learn," Judah quietly revealed.

"Why don't you wait for the nurse?" Hungary butted in, hardly believing what she was hearing.

By this time, Austria had stepped a few paces away, attempting to find Seychelles on her way there. The other girls were nearby, speechless and frightened. Although Seychelles wasn't in view, Belgium was on her way and soon arrived with the softest pillow she could acquire for Liechtenstein, who gratefully took bit into it to ease her pain. Meanwhile, Switzerland lowered his eyes, contemplating what to decide. Sitting on the grass beside Liechtenstein and Judah, Switzerland considered what Judah said—"Life without kindness forced me to learn," and once again, Switzerland glimpsed the dark side of Judah's life. Instantly Judah gained a renewed respect in Switzerland's eyes. In the meantime, however, they needed to figure out what to do in this current emergency. Liechtenstein's ankle was unaligned, causing her to cry, no,  _weep_  with pain. Switzerland couldn't remember the last time Liechtenstein hurt herself that strongly. Witnessing her tears tortured him.

"If there's any way you can make it hurt less—please do so!" Liechtenstein moaned, willing to get any medical help in this situation. Switzerland shot a worried look at her, but before he could say anything, Israel added, "My brother helped my foot when it was nearly broken—don't doubt him."

Whipping his gaze around, Switzerland felt outnumbered, outgunned, and out of excuses. He desperately wanted to object, but he didn't know where to begin.

"May I please realign her ankle?" Judah requested respectfully from his roommate. Eyeing Judah distrustfully, Switzerland felt like a clock with a piece of metal jammed in the gears—unable to function. Partially, he wanted to deny Judah, but partially, he was so concerned for his sister that he was  _almost_  willing to allow Judah to help.

"We should wait for the nurse!" Austria interjected.

Liechtenstein hissed in pain.

On the one hand, Switzerland wished to declare, "Go ahead—assist my sister," while on the other hand he had a thousand reasons to decline. As the battle raged within his mind, Switzerland bit his lip. Judah desired to help, but he knew he wouldn't be able to help if Switzerland refused…then again, the nurse would arrive eventually…where was that nurse, anyway? At that moment, Seychelles arrived, panting hard.

"I…searched for the—nurse, and—she—wasn't—there! Apparently, she had to…leave…because of some sort of—family emergency. We don't have a nurse right now!" Seychelles gasped.

Everyone stared at her in shock—how could there be no nurse?

Suddenly, the wrestling in Switzerland's mind halted. Without realizing what he was saying, Switzerland blurted out, "Fine, help her—do what you can, but if you hurt her, I'll shoot you, understand?"

Judah solemnly nodded.

 _Wait, why did I say that? I should have declined him! If something goes wrong, it will be my fault for accepting his help! I should take back my answer, but I can't—it's too late now! Oh…I'm sorry, Liechten…_  Switzerland moaned inwardly, feeling like the most unintelligent human being alive.

[Wait, technically he's not a human…I'm sorry, he felt like the most unintelligent nation/country alive for allowing a semi-stranger to help his sister-There, are you happy now?]

While Switzerland cursed himself inwardly, something inside of him quietly whispered that he made a good choice. Suddenly, he became confused—how was letting Judah give his sister medical help a good choice? It didn't make any logical sense to him…. Frustrated and confused with his self, Switzerland bit his lip another time, watching every second of what happened next. Carefully, Judah stretched out Liechtenstein's foot, and warned her, "This will hurt, but it will pass." Liechtenstein nodded bravely and clutched the pillow harder. Switzerland's heart raced.

 _What have I done? If he hurts her, I'll…I'll murder him—no, I cannot do that! Wait, who says I cannot—wait, no, Then I would be apprehended. All right, then I will severely wound him instead…No, I do not think I will be allowed to do that either…This is my entire fault!_   _What kind of older brother am I?_ Switzerland bemoaned inwardly, wishing he didn't speak so hastily.

While everyone watched, Judah gently stretched out Liechtenstein's leg, and then warned, "On 'three' I am going to tug hard—brace yourself…" Liechtenstein obeyed, holding the pillow with one hand and grasping her brother with the other hand. Austria wanted to stop Judah, but he didn't know what to say. After all, Switzerland permitted Judah to help, there wasn't a nurse on duty, and _he_  certainly didn't know what to do. Hence, Austria kept his mouth shut, afraid to speak on the one hand while afraid to remain silent on the other. Of course, no one else tried to stop Judah because each was afraid of upsetting Switzerland, who was known for his temper. After all, Switzerland did allow Judah to help, so if anything went wrong, it was on  _Switzerland's_  head, not theirs. The crowd backed away slowly, afraid to be in the line of fire in case something did go wrong.

Judah counted, "One…Two…"

Switzerland's green eyes grew bigger and bigger as he tried to not panic (notice I said 'tried'). Liechtenstein bit her pillow, preparing for the worst. The girls held their breaths—did Judah actually know what he was doing? Austria felt torn between stopping Judah and watching what would unfold. Although Austria believed that they should find another option, he didn't want to anger Switzerland, especially since  _Switzerland himself_  allowed Judah to help Liechtenstein in the first place.

As I mentioned before, no one wanted to intervene—after all, if somebody hurt Liechtenstein, Switzerland would probably… send him or her on a permanent vacation from life. Hence, most of the crowd was expecting to witness Switzerland strangle Judah—or, possibly, somehow locate a rifle and shoot Judah, which would be the most likely cause of death considering Switzerland's reputation for being… occasionally… trigger-happy. The only people not expecting Judah's life to end shortly were his loving sister, Israel, and Liechtenstein, both of whom had complete faith in Judah's abilities.

Abruptly, while everyone observed, Judah counted, "Three!"

After Judah spoke, he smoothly pulled Liechtenstein's foot forward until it was in its natural position. Liechtenstein yelped in pain. Everyone gasped. Switzerland stiffened. Before Switzerland threatened him, Judah ordered, "Get a splint."

Austria and Seychelles hurried away, while Judah firmly held Liechtenstein's foot in his hands. When Austria and Seychelles returned with some wood and cloths, Judah instructed Switzerland and Austria to splint Liechtenstein's leg. Cautiously the two young men worked together as they had not in decades, if not centuries. As they finished splinting Liechtenstein's leg, Switzerland and Austria looked to Judah for further instruction.

"She needs Crutches," Judah informed them.

Austria sprinted away at that. Because he was a member of the staff, Austria needed to watch over the other students, hence, he did his best to help Liechtenstein. Returning with some crutches, Austria awaited further instruction.

"Will my foot recover?" Liechtenstein inquired with a hint of worry.

"Yes, but you mustn't put much weight on it, or do any strenuous activity on it for around three months," Judah warned. (Actually, Judah believed she would be fully healed within two months, but he gave her an extra month to be sure she would mend properly.)

"I will be careful," Liechtenstein promised, feeling the pain ebb slightly.

As Switzerland helped his sister to her feet, he considered all the insults he almost threw at Judah, and felt a pang of guilt. Switzerland assumed Judah would make everything worse, but he didn't. Liechtenstein was still in pain, but it lessened now that her bones were realigned. Judah  _had_  assisted Liechtenstein. Switzerland was relieved and surprisingly grateful to Judah for helping his sister.

"She needs to be examined by a doctor," Judah explained as he helped steady Liechtenstein.

The bystanders marveled, wondering how many different skills Judah obtained in his lifetime. Israel smiled, glad that her brother proved himself again and that Liechtenstein would mend. Austria gawked at Judah, unsure of whether he should be astounded or relieved at what just occurred. Eventually, Liechtenstein would arrive at a nearby doctor's office, and he would examine her, confirming that she needed to rest, and that her bones were re-aligned. By the end of the day, Switzerland was relieved that his choice worked out for the best…and he decided that Judah was at least  _somewhat_  trustworthy.

As the weeks continued, Switzerland and Judah grew closer together, tensions continued to build between Iraq and Judah, and India began plotting to help Israel enjoy herself...matchmaker style.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad you have read this far!
> 
> In case you are worried that I have an ax to grind with Liechtenstein, I gave her the dislocated ankle to further the plot, not because I hate her.
> 
> In fact, I like Liechtenstein-she's one of my favorites.
> 
> You see, I wanted Judah to be friends with Switzerland, and considering Switzerland's xenophobic nature, I assumed something deeply impacting, something dreadfully serious would have to occur to break through that wall, allowing Switzerland to trust Judah. Hence, the dislocated ankle. Why pick Switzerland to be his friend? Well...I felt like it-I believe in impossible relationships, and I like being a wee bit controversial at times. Most may pick someone friendlier, I picked someone extremely unfriendly.
> 
> Anyway, I am not a doctor, so I did serious research on the subject of dislocated ankles and feet-yes, there is a difference-before I wrote this part of the story.
> 
> Again, I have nothing against Liechtenstein, I just have a habit of making intense scenes...or, at least, dramatic/serious ones. (Strangely enough, I also have a funny sense of humor that keeps popping up in my stories, even if I'm the only one laughing!)
> 
> Also, I am not a historian, but it is my understanding that there was conflict between Great Britain and India when India was one of his colonies/territories.
> 
> If I remember correctly, at one point the United Kingdom went as far as to say that the Indian marriage rituals no longer legitimate. In other words, everyone who did not get married the British way were considered unmarried.
> 
> Isn't that crazy?
> 
> Again, I'm not a historian, just a history enthusiast, especially after learning about Hetalia, and reading certain history books I enjoy.
> 
> Anyway, I would just like to remind you, please do not spoil my plot line in any reviews, and please be kind if you do write a review.
> 
> Remember, this is my FIRST fan fiction, and possibly my LAST-please be generous and understanding as well as forgiving and accepting.
> 
> Also, please do not hate my story until you have read all the way to the last sentence of the epilogue-it is only fair... besides, it's an ending I'm sure you won't want to miss... especially after reading the beginning.
> 
> ~+~ PioneeringAuthor ~+~


	5. The Dam Splits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This is meant to be depressing.
> 
> ...Prepare yourself...
> 
> ~+~ PioneeringAuthor ~+~

**CHAPTER 4**

**The Dam Splits**

As I mentioned before, tension built between Iraq and Judah. Once the dam between them cracked, it had no choice but to break and flood the surrounding area eventually. That day came for Iraq and Judah. I suppose there are a thousand reasons why Iraq detested Israel and Judah, but whatever the reason was, it was undeniable that Iraq detested them. Although Judah attempted to have an agreeable relationship with Iraq numerous times, nothing worked; Iraq abhorred them still. Tragically, one day at the World Academy, this darker side of Iraq unleashed itself.  
Heading to her class one day, Israel was stepping along the corridors of the school, when Iraq spotted her. His odium for her forced him to haze her whenever possible. As the halls emptied, Iraq drew closer to Israel, and began interrogating her.

"How was your last class?" Iraq began.

Halting suddenly, and turning to face Iraq, Israel nervously answered, "F-fine…." Once she finished speaking, she lowered her gaze and waited for permission to leave.

"I assume you are one of the highest-ranking students in  _that_  class as well as the others," Iraq stated, walking closer to her. That Israel was an exceptional student was something that irritated Iraq incredibly.

"Yes…." Israel acknowledged, wondering where this was leading. Iraq started backing her into a smaller hallway. Soon, he had Israel against a wall. Iraq placed one hand on the wall near Israel's head, and leaned close to her.  
Nearby, Switzerland was about to enter his class, when he noticed that one of his shoes came untied. Bending down to tie his shoe, Switzerland vaguely heard someone speaking in the hallway nearby. Although he couldn't make out the words, Switzerland sensed something was terribly amiss. Partially, he didn't want to get involved in someone else's problems…but something compelled him to take just  _one_  look. When Switzerland poked his head around the corner, he sighted Iraq speaking with Israel. Knowing how much Iraq hated Israel and Judah, Switzerland silently observed, apprehensive of what would happen next.

"Listen to me," Iraq sneered quietly, "no matter what you do, where you go, you will  _always_  be a slave; No one will like you, no one will value you, because all you are is a slave."

While listening to Iraq, Israel cringed, grasped her books closer to her nearly flat chest, and prayed Iraq would depart and allow her to attend her class.

Meanwhile, Judah was walking nearby, heading to the same class as Israel, when he noticed Switzerland peering around a corner. Switzerland was so absorbed in whatever he was staring at that he didn't hear Judah approach. As Judah neared Switzerland, he recognized Iraq's voice, and dread washed over him. He wondered if Israel was with Iraq. Silently, he hurried closer until he, too, was peering around the corner. Feeling someone next to him, Switzerland whirled around, and relief swept over him as he spied Judah behind him. Before Switzerland could warn Judah of what was going on, Iraq whispered to Israel,

"You will never amount to anything, ever! Don't think for a moment that you're special, because you're  _worthless_ , and if you think for a  _moment_  that  _anyone_  in this school cares for you—you're lying to yourself, because you are an unlovable, ugly, scar-faced, dog!"

Although Iraq had whispered that statement, he didn't whisper low enough to get past Judah's ears…or Switzerland's. (Where Israel and Judah came from, "dog" could mean one's best friend, or one's despised enemy. Obviously, the term "dog" was not used by Iraq in a friend way.) Hearing Iraq insult his sister, Judah felt his fury kindle—he wasn't a raging volcano yet, but flames were burning. Holding his temper, Judah stalked over to Iraq and warned, "Don't call her that."

Spinning around, Iraq glared at Judah and snapped, "Who are you to tell me what to say?"

Sensing the precarious position he placed himself in, Judah calmly explained, "I do not wish to usurp you, I simply wish respect for my sister and me."

"What makes you think  _you_  deserve respect?" Iraq growled.

"Sir, we obey your commands, we respect your authority, we honor your wishes—isn't it honorable to honor a faithful servant?" Judah carefully elucidated while Israel slipped away from Iraq.

Considering what Judah uttered, Iraq remained silent for a few moments. Israel froze, her heart pounding as she waited for Iraq's reply. Cautiously, Switzerland eyed a clock nearby, noting that they only had three minutes to class and that the halls were emptied…except for them. Although common sense screamed at Switzerland to go to class and get help, his political neutrality ordered him to avoid any involvement. Furthermore, he had a hunch that this conflict was going to rise, and that Judah would need an unbiased witness for his defense. Torn between leaving them be, getting help, or attending class, Switzerland continued to observe the discussion a few meters away from him.

"I do not honor dogs," Iraq finally retorted.

"We are not dogs!" Judah argued, feeling his anger rise at the thought of his sister being insulted.

Although he was technically Israel's  _younger_  brother, Judah took on the role of older brother, leader, and protector when his father died. Throughout the centuries, nations conquered and abused Israel and Judah. After years of agony, Judah developed a level of tolerance for various abuses. He could withstand the wickedest insults and slanders to his own name, as well as some of the toughest beatings…but when it came to his  _sister_ , the sole survivor of his immediate family, he drew the line. His father's dying request was that he, Judah, would protect his sister. No matter what happened, Judah determined to fulfill that request. Repeatedly, he protected her in any way possible, defended her honor, and willingly received beatings for her. Hence, the sound of anyone mistreating, manipulating, abusing, insulting, or slandering his sister was enflaming to his anger. He could withstand hours of whipping, but if someone harmed his sister, he needed to act. Nevertheless, deep down, all he wanted was peace and safety. Whenever someone harmed Judah and Israel, Judah always tried to find a peaceful solution. This day, was one of those times. As Iraq pushed the limits of Judah's temper, Judah tactfully tried to persuade Iraq to respect Israel in a calm way…and then he made the mistake of snapping back at Iraq with, "We are not dogs!" At that instant, Iraq punched Judah in the jaw, knocking him to the floor. Israel gasped and cringed, petrified at what was unfolding before her eyes.

"How dare you speak to me with that tone of voice!" Iraq seethed in rage.

Leaning on one arm, Judah quickly replied, "All I want is peace, Iraq—what must I do to have peace?"

Bending down and jerking Judah upward by his coat sleeves, Iraq fumed, "You want peace, do you? Who are you to ask for a better life—you are nothing, understand? Nothing!"

Looking Iraq directly in his eyes, Judah quietly corrected, "You are wrong—we are just as valuable as you are."

Tossing Judah to the floor, Iraq growled, "How dare you say I am wrong!"

Propping himself up by his arms, Judah quietly stated, "Iraq, although I long for peace, I will defend myself."

As he tossed his blue coat aside, Iraq threatened, "We shall see, won't we?"

Jumping to his feet, Judah dodged a blow from Iraq. Quickly, Judah untied his tie, and prepared to evade any attacks. Alarmed that a fight was beginning, Israel cast about the hallway for any help, and pinpointed Switzerland at the end of the hall. Desperately, Israel rushed over to Switzerland while fearfully clutching her books.

"Please, do something!" Israel adjured him.

As Switzerland gazed into Israel's ice-blue eyes, he reflected on his own sister. He would give anything to help his sister. Similarly, he felt compelled to help Israel, and yet, he was neutral—by definition, he wasn't supposed to interfere in other's affairs. Since 1515, he remained neutral and he wasn't going to declare an alliance now. On the other hand, something deep within him wanted to defend Judah, or at least stop the fight before it fully commenced. Viewing a nearby clock, Switzerland noted that it was already class time. If he interfered now, he may be able to convince the boys to settle this after class—but he hesitated. Alas, he faltered…

While Switzerland wavered, Iraq swung at Judah, who ducked and maneuvered in time to escape. Hearing the noise, Israel spun around, and panicked at what she observed: the fight beginning. Iraq constantly tried to hit Judah while Judah nimbly evaded every blow, the two moving closer to Switzerland and Israel each time. Quickly, Switzerland latched onto Israel's blue coat and whisked her out of the way as Judah rolled past them into the main hallway. Regaining his feet, Judah leapt back as Iraq charged closer. While Iraq's anger clearly rose with every miss, Judah's determination not to fight strengthened. Regardless, it was obvious that eventually someone would be harmed. As the two boys moved down the main corridor, Judah processed the odds of what would occur next. He understood that Iraq wasn't lightening up, and that Iraq was determined to kill Judah, if possible.

Realizing that he may not be able to achieve a peaceful conclusion, Judah believed he had no choice but to fight Iraq and win, if he wanted peace. Since he didn't want anyone getting hurt, Judah led Iraq down the hallway, attempting to exit the building to the courtyard, for more fighting space. On the way to the main doors, Judah continually dodged Iraq's attacks. Unfortunately, as he was leaping out of the way, he bumped a small table with a flower vase resting on top. Of course, the vase fell and shattered before Judah could catch it. A nearby classroom, Judah's classroom, heard the crash. Curious, the teacher sent Syria to investigate, since Syria clearly needed to move around anyway. When he opened the door, Syria spotted Iraq wrestling with Judah. As Syria watched, Judah shoved Iraq off, and dashed for the exit. Before Judah opened the door, Iraq grabbed Judah and flung him to the ground. Soon, the two were wrestling again, punching each other and thrashing about on the ground.

In worried excitement, Syria turned to his classroom and shouted, "Judah is beating up Iraq!"

Suddenly, the entire room stood and rushed to the door. Meanwhile, Israel beseeched Switzerland to stop the fight. However, Switzerland felt that the two youths should fight out their feelings and settle their differences without anyone interfering. Although that answer might satisfy a man, it did not satisfy a fearful young lady whose brother was being flogged by someone who absolutely detested them both. No matter what Israel said, Switzerland still didn't budge—he was neutral, and he wished to stay that way, even though he did deeply want to defend Judah. Hence, Judah and Iraq wrestled unhindered, while a crowd gathered nearby.

Eventually, Judah managed to get a free hand and punch Iraq hard enough to cause Iraq to roll off Judah. Quickly, Judah gained his feet, and sprinted out the main doors, believing that Iraq would follow. As Judah presumed, Iraq was furious enough to pursue Judah. After rolling to his feet, Iraq sprinted after Judah, leaving his white Kaffiyeh on the ground behind him, revealing that his hair was indeed black. For a moment, Israel paused and commented inwardly, Oh, his hair is black…I don't think I've ever seen him uncover his head before…I wonder why—his hair seems so lush and healthy…wait, I don't have time to think about hair! I have to devise a way to stop this fight before Judah gets severely hurt! Of course, as Iraq burst through the doors, the nosy crowd, which was composed almost entirely of nosy, noisy, men—scratch that, boys, not men, followed the two fighters and shouted advice to them. Syria, on the other hand, was not eager to stand by and give fighting tips, but, instead, was eager to join the brawl on his brother's side. Thankfully, Turkey held him back strongly.

"But Turkey, he's beating up our brother! We can't let Judah beat Iraq, can we?" Syria entreated while Turkey grappled Syria's narrow, immature waist.

"No, Syria, this is Iraq's fight—not yours!" Turkey answered, dragging Syria back as he spoke. Since Syria had not yet hit his growth spurt, he was only about half of Turkey's height. If he had been the same height as Turkey, he may have been able to escape Turkey's restraints.

"Awww…but, can't we help?" Syria braced while hanging over Turkey's firm arms.

"No—I already have one brother being attacked, I will not have two brothers being hurt—understand?" Turkey stiffly replied as he leaned back in an attempt to keep Syria off the ground.

Being worried that Iraq would get hurt and that he wouldn't get to fight anyone, Syria struggled in Turkey's arms and complained, "Oh-you're no fun, you know that? Iraq gets all the adventure while I have to endure the torture of watching him get beaten!"

"I don't care if I'm not fun—I'm making sure that you don't get a black eye like your brother," Turkey retorted, backing away from the front line as he did.

"Isn't it honorable to win a fight, though?" Syria parried, craning his neck to gaze into Turkey's green-brown eyes.

"Yes, but how honorable could it be two-to-one?" Turkey pointed out while trying not to loosen his failing grip on his adopted younger brother.

Thankfully, Syria was about two heads shorter than Turkey; if he was taller, he might have pushed out of Turkey's grasp. As the two brothers argued, the teacher in the crowd desperately tried to stop the fight, or at least break up the crowd, to no avail. Indeed, the crowd became louder, and the fight continued. In fact, the crowd became so noisy that other classes heard the commotion, and investigated from windows and opened doors. Soon, those classes were joining the crowd to observe the fight, despite their teachers' warnings.

Meanwhile, Iraq and Judah circled each other, waiting for the perfect opportunity to lunge, as the crowd goaded them on. At length, Iraq charged for Judah, who nimbly dodged and subsequently slugged Iraq in the jaw. Instantly, Iraq heard something crack. Wait—allow me to re-phrase that… *Thinks of how to re-phrase it; continues story* Iraq heard an undeniable 'CRACK!' somewhere in his mouth. Pain charged through his jaw, forcing him to double over. Putting both hands to his mouth, Iraq stiffened, attempting hold in the shrieking pain. He stumbled forward in agony. Suddenly, he felt something loose in his mouth and…something else… Opening his mouth into his tan hands, Iraq felt something pour out, and when he lowered his hands, he saw one of his molars in a pool of warm, dark liquid. For several minutes, Iraq stared at his tooth in disbelief while the audience kept chanting, 'FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT!' When Judah initially punched Iraq, he, Judah, intended to knock Iraq unconscious. However, Judah miscalculated where Iraq would be at the moment he swung, and instead of hitting Iraq in the back of his head, Judah knocked Iraq directly in his jaw. Hence, Iraq was…one tooth lighter…from that moment on…and a thousand times more infuriated.

Meanwhile, guilt flooded Judah's heart as he mourned inwardly,  _What am I doing? I shouldn't be fighting him…but he did attack me first…but I shouldn't be doing this! I should be turning the other cheek as I have for these past centuries, shouldn't I? Then again, a man must defend himself eventually, mustn't he? Oh…why must this happen! I only want this fight to end, and no matter what I do, it only gets worse! Now, I have seriously injured him…I'm not sure what I did, but it seems he's lost a tooth, considering where I struck him, and the small stream of blood draining down the side of his mouth. Oh, what have I done? All I want is a peaceful relationship with him—is that too much to ask, to simply get along with those around me?...He's not only my master, but my relative-albeit distant relative, but still my relative…We should be friends, and we are enemies…Oh, what a tragedy I live, to fight my flesh and blood…why…why…WHY? It seems that no matter who conquers me, eventually they hate me, because I am Jewish, because I am different, because of my beliefs, because of something! In addition, it's not just at my home—it's the rest of the world! No matter what I hear of my people dispersed in the other nations, it seems to be one tragedy after another! When, when will I finally have a house to myself, as an independent country? God said I would one day, but when will that day be? When will my people be gathered from the four corners of the earth to a place made for them? When will our land be ours again? When will we have peace? Judah panted heavily at this point while still observing Iraq, who slowly turned his gaze to Judah. As Iraq's brown eyes glared at Judah in pure, cold, seething fury, Judah silently prayed, Oh…Oh, My Father, My King…please help me…I can't take this anymore—please end this fight somehow, and help me to have peace soon…I wait for you to fulfill your promise to my family…Please let it be soon._

In utter fury, Iraq sputtered through his pain, "You'll—pay—for this!"

As the fight continued, it became worse. Iraq attacked more frequently, and Judah couldn't dodge every blow. Various people attempted to stop it to no avail. England tried to stop it—and he was shoved away by Iraq. Austria attempted to halt the two fighters, and failed. Considering Switzerland was neutral—unbiased, most likely to settle conflicts more than start them, et cetera- several nations attempted to convince him to stop the fight. However, Switzerland didn't want to get involved on the grounds that he was neutral.

"Sooner or later one will attack the other anyway—why not have it out now and save us the trouble of anticipating a fight every day of our lives? Leave them be, or, better yet, leave ME be!" Switzerland shouted.

Soon, America pushed his way to the front.

"I'LL STOP THEM!" He declared heroically.

However, at this point, Israel realized that if anyone interrupted, there would be even more people getting hurt, Hence, she shouted, "NO! You'll only get hurt! Leave them be!"

"But I can stop them!" America insisted.

"NO! This is a fight that has been brewing for centuries... I want it to stop, but I don't want anyone else getting hurt!" Israel pleaded.

Meanwhile, many teachers tried to stop the fight, but nothing worked. Of course, this wasn't a fight that could be ended quickly by any standards. Indeed, this was a brawl that could only end in victory for one of the parties. Truthfully, this was not a sudden fight, but a continuation of what had been occurring for the past several centuries at Turkey's house.

For decades, Iraq pushed Judah to the edge, exhausting Judah with tasks, piercing him with insults, and even physically abusing Judah at times. This fight was an inevitable outbreak of what was growing beneath the surface. However, even though Judah had a thousand reasons to kill Iraq in revenge, Judah was determined to win the fight only to finish the quarrel. Sadly, no matter what he tried, Iraq would not give in, give up, or give Judah peace.

Watching the fight from the frontlines, England realized that he, as the student council president, should tell the principal that this clash was unending. As the student council vice president, France went with him. The two tore through the hallways, anxious of what the principal would say, and of what would happen if the fight grew too rough. While England and France reached the Principal's office and informed him of the…unfolding events, Iraq and Judah grappled on the ground of the courtyard, covered in dirt and bruises. At length, Judah gained the upper hand, and in a desperate attempt to finish the quarrel, Judah walloped Iraq. Iraq lay motionless. The crowd silenced. Nothing stirred. Sighing with relief that the battle was over, Judah unstraddled Iraq, and examined his own cracked, bleeding knuckles.

Suddenly, Syria screamed, "YOU KILLED HIM!"

Hearing that exclamation, Judah froze, his heart skipping a beat as he wondered if he actually killed Iraq. Meanwhile, the crowd gasped at the thought that someone could actually have died in this scrap. Turkey stared at Iraq in shock. Israel held one hand to her mouth, endeavoring to not panic. Switzerland strained his neck above the crowd, striving to catch a glimpse of Judah's reaction. Meanwhile, Judah contemplated if it was even possible for him to kill a fellow nation. Considering his parents' death, Judah deemed it distantly possible.

Desperately, Judah leaned close to Iraq, listening. Judah heard Iraq breathing normally.

Relieved beyond words, he sighed again, and loudly declared, "He's alive—knocked out."

Syria hung in Turkey's arms, thankful and comforted that his brother was alive…Even if he was toothless, bruised, and bleeding from his mouth, Iraq was still alive, and that was good enough for Syria, Turkey, Judah, and Israel, who nearly fainted with gratefulness. She didn't want to know the consequences of her master's brother being slain…she already had enough pain to deal with on the inside. While the crowd was about to move close to Judah, the school doors slammed open. Everyone turned to view the opened doors as the principal, a tall, intimidating human man, stormed into the courtyard.

"WHAT IS GOING ON!?" The principal shrieked; his wrath kindled at the mere notion of an uncontrollable fight occurring on his school grounds.

As the principal stood on the steps, he glared at the group surrounding him. Then he spotted it—Judah kneeling over Iraq, who appeared to be dead. Clenching his strong, huge fists, the Principal stormed through the crowd, until he was standing over Judah and Iraq.

"What…have…you DONE!?" The Principal demanded. Before Judah could answer, something caught the principal's eyes. Whipping his gaze around, he spotted something in a tiny pool of dark liquid. Striding close to the minuscule, yet eye-catching puddle, the principal realized that it was blood, with a tooth in it. Indeed, he realized that someone lost a tooth…and that enflamed him all the more.

"WHOSE TOOTH IS THIS!?" He bellowed, fixing his eyes on Judah as he spoke.

Judah timidly pointed at Iraq, hoping the principal would calm down soon. Stomping over to Judah, the principal huffed and puffed, too angered for words. Although the principal expected some disagreements and quarrels between students, he never anticipated enough misconduct to knock out a tooth. He believed that these students would surely be civilized enough to settle their disputes in an agreeable fashion—but, no! Those two simply had to start a brawl, didn't they? At least, that's how the principal viewed it. He understood that, surely, some sort of argument would occur eventually, but a fight such as this—a bruising, bleeding, scraping, row was beyond his tolerance.

When he heard that his students would all be personified nations, he assumed they knew how to settle disputes in a civil manner after centuries of living. Instead, he found himself with students whose lives and experience spanned thousands of years beyond his, but whose personalities reflected mortal young men and women with barely any years of experience or knowledge. It was an enigma. The principal could not fathom how people with their centuries of experience still could not reason with each other logically and calmly. Hence, when he heard that a fight occurred, he was confused and indignant. There he was, glaring at Judah with a thousand rebukes on the tip of his tongue, and no ability to vocalize any noise.

Finally, before Judah could defend himself or elucidate anything, the principal fumed, "You knocked his tooth out…You knocked him out cold…IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE YOU DAMAGED?"

Again, Judah opened his mouth to speak, but the principal raised his hand for silence, and stated, "No—I don't want to hear anything from you. As one of the accused, you will probably give me biased information…I need someone who I know I will be able to trust."

Turning to the crowd, the tall man bellowed, "WHERE IS SWITZERLAND?"

Instantly, the crowd nearest to Switzerland parted, revealing Switzerland standing there, still as a stone, with the afternoon sun highlighting his blonde hair. As the principal glared at him, Switzerland finally understood why deer freeze when people see them at certain times. Determined to hear the truth, the principal stormed over to Switzerland, demanding if he witnessed the entire fight. When Switzerland acknowledged that he had observed the whole fight, the principal latched onto him and escorted Switzerland to his office. The crowd whispered as Switzerland was pulled away by the principal. They understood that the principal selected Switzerland because he was neutral—hence, unbiased—but they wondered what would happen next.

Sitting in the hallway near the principal's office, Judah awaited his punishment. At that moment, he understood how an accused criminal felt waiting for a judge to pass sentence. Examining his stinging, cracked hands, Judah considered his possibilities. For one thing, nothing could happen. It was highly unlikely, but still possible. For another thing, he may have to perform some sort of task or accept some rebukes…or, he could be expelled. As he thought of being expelled, Judah's heart began to race. He didn't want to be sent away from his sister—he needed to be there for her, to help her with confusing subjects, to encourage her when she felt helpless, to guard her from harm, to love her, simply love her. Judah hoped that he wouldn't be expelled, not only because of his sister, but also for so many other things. After all, he was finally getting to know people, finally making…friends, yes, that's what they were-friends.

For centuries, Judah either didn't have time for friends, or didn't have any nation friends. Suddenly, he was in a place where he wasn't rushing to some chore every five minutes, where he wasn't watching his back for enemies every place he walked, where he finally could sit, eat with someone, and get to know them in peace. For the first time in countless years, Judah was acquainting himself with people—not masters, not conquerors, but people who treated him like a person. Indeed, Judah was getting to know others. Besides Switzerland, Judah was getting to know Poland, Lithuania, America, Canada, and even the sometimes-rude England, among others. He didn't want to leave yet—he was just becoming acquainted with people, finally laughing with them, finally opening up to them, finally making friends. He didn't want to lose what he never had since his parents' death.

If he was expelled, it could be decades before he saw those nations again. Furthermore, what would he do at home while his masters were still in school? Perhaps, he would finally have some free time in the afternoon. As he considered this, he pondered what he would do with his free time, if he had any. He also contemplated whether he would have any work to do at all. If he had no work, what would he do instead? After mulling over this for some time, he remembered his sister. He felt his heart race like Syria's pet horse. He couldn't leave—no, not for his sister's sake! He was desperate—he truly needed to stay for her alone. The two siblings had been together since their parents died, rarely separated.

If Judah left, it would be devastating to state the least. He couldn't imagine going months without seeing her for at least a few moments. He felt tears sting his eyes as he ruminated over what it would be like without Israel. If he knew how Israel was thinking the same things at the same time, he probably would have cried. Suddenly, in the midst of his contemplations, the principal's office opened, and Switzerland trudged out, hanging his blonde head. Slowly, Switzerland walked past Judah, without even looking at him. Judah watched Switzerland step down the hallway for a few moments before hearing the principal call his name. Nervously, Judah walked into the principal's room, and shut the door behind him.

"Judah, after careful consideration…I have decided that you…should be expelled," The principal informed Judah with his hands neatly folded on his desk. Despairing his fate, Judah pleadingly eyed the principal, but before he could open his mouth, the principle continued,

"I do not wish to send you away, considering you are one of our best students, and you have no record of being any sort of hooligan. Unfortunately, I must do something to keep order, and since you caused more damage in the fight, and took very little yourself, I feel that it is only fair that you should be the one to leave. I will not tolerate fights in my school…." The Principal leaned back in his chair, regret staining his brown eyes as he studied Judah's face. "After breakfast tomorrow, you must leave—I will have someone pick you up at the gates….Even though I am sending you away, I still believe that you are one of the best students in this school," The principal informed Judah, with a faint glimmer of pride in his eyes as he spoke.

Hearing the principal's words, Judah slumped into his chair. Although Judah understood the principal's view, and felt honored to be considered one of the best students, he couldn't bear his expulsion. Judah left the office, his heart deeply sinking as he trudged down the hallway. Carrying a hundred regrets on his shoulders, Judah wished he could re-do the day…. Of course, he couldn't. Hence, he decided to bravely accept his fate, and prayed that God would look after his sister while he was gone.

Judah's verdict streamed through the school, and soon everyone knew that he was leaving in the morning after breakfast. At supper that last day he had at the school, Judah sat in a corner with his sister crying on his shoulder. While Judah stroked his sister's head comfortingly, he also sobbed and shed tears over the thought of being separated from his sister. Their hearts tore that day. As they sat together, holding each other and weeping, Israel and Judah didn't say a word. Indeed, they were too sorrowful for words. Meanwhile, the people they had grown close to searched for them, and came to comfort them in any way possible. Although he was still as unsocial as ever, Switzerland was the first person to approach them.

When he first decided to force himself to become acquainted with Judah, he did so to please Liechtenstein. In time, he found himself actually enjoying being with Judah. All of a sudden, right when he was finally becoming comfortable around Judah, as Switzerland was finally bonding with him, Judah was expelled from school. Switzerland's temper shot up at the mere thought of that. It simply wasn't fair—Judah leaving and Iraq staying—why didn't Iraq leave, or why didn't they both leave, or why couldn't some other punishment be thought of so that Judah could stay? As Switzerland tumbled these questions around his mind, he stomped over to Judah.

Reaching Judah, Switzerland was about to speak, but stopped and stood behind Judah and Israel, watching them. Israel and Judah were sitting in chairs at a small table by themselves, holding each other and crying on each other's shoulders. Judah's head rested on Israel's back while she sobbed into his shoulder, wishing she were expelled with him. Comfortingly, Judah stroked her white head covering with one hand as he wept into her blue coat. As Switzerland watched the two mourn together, his anger began to dissipate, and was replaced with compassion. Standing there, watching, Switzerland pondered if he should leave them alone and speak to Judah later. Then, he noticed the bruise on the back of Judah's lightly tanned neck. Immediately, Switzerland considered Iraq, and what Iraq did during the fight, and his temper began to reignite. Eventually, he could contain himself no longer.

"Judah, it simply isn't fair!" Switzerland burst out as he stepped forward, "You should not have to leave! You weren't the only one attacking—I tried to explain it to the principal, but he wouldn't heed me! Judah, you cannot allow him to send you away—it isn't right!"

Lifting his head slowly, without facing Switzerland, Judah sobbed, "Switzerland…thank-you—but-what is done…is…done."

"No—there must be some way to persuade the principal! It's not too late yet—" Switzerland began, moving his hands as he spoke, but before he could finish his declaration, Judah looked over his shoulder at his roommate.

Seeing Judah's tear-stained face, Switzerland paused, his words suddenly dying on his lips. Judah seemed completely different. Instead of the strong, silent, hardened warrior Switzerland usually saw, Judah appeared to be a broken-hearted, devastated, abused boy. Switzerland always knew there was a deep connection between Judah and his sister, but he never knew how deep it was, until he saw Judah's tear-filled eyes, his puffy, tear-stained cheeks, and the abject sorrow and regret coursing from his gaze.

Quietly, Judah blubbered, "No…If it is—my- time….I will leave…Don't….ruin…your…schooling—leave it be." As he spoke, another tear flowed down his cheek, dropping off his chin.

At that point, Switzerland's anger began to die again, and the soft spots left on his heart began to twinge with sympathy. For a few moments, Switzerland took in Judah's expression, read the deep sorrow written in Judah's eyes, and considered what he, Switzerland, would do if he was forced away from Liechtenstein. He considered what it would be like, living at home, without her cheerful voice greeting him, or her twinkling eyes smiling at him, or her helpful advice encouraging him. The more he considered, the more somber he became. As he thought of his own experiences, he recalled that Judah had endured so much more than Switzerland had to endure, and that Judah always had his sister with him…until now.

Switzerland contemplated what his life would have been like if Liechtenstein had always been with him, and how he would act if the sister he always had were torn away from him. Suddenly, he fully understood how Judah felt. Indeed, Switzerland glimpsed the source of Judah's tears as he considered what he would do in Judah's position. If Switzerland was in Judah's place, he knew that he would kill everyone trying to take away his sister…or he would be hopelessly sobbing…Most likely, Switzerland wouldn't be sobbing…but Judah was. While Switzerland surveyed Judah's countenance, the soft spots on his heart throbbed harder, and he felt something sting the back of his eyes.

After a few moments, Switzerland gulped and addressed Judah with, "If you do not wish me to speak to the principal…then what do you want me to do? I do not want to stand by and watch you leave—you are one of the best students in this school, and everyone here knows it! Please, tell me, is there anything I can do for you?" As he spoke, Switzerland stepped over to where Judah sat, and faced him.

"Watch over—my—sister," Judah tearfully offered as he fixed his gaze on Switzerland. When Israel heard her brother speak, she lifted her head and turned around to catch a glimpse of Switzerland. Out of the corner of her eye, Israel noted Switzerland standing near Judah, and wondered if she should trust Switzerland. Soon, her vision filled with tears, and she slumped her head back onto her brother's shoulder, and continued weeping, grasping Judah's neck and back tighter as she did so. Judah comfortingly rubbed Israel's back. Watching the siblings cry together, Switzerland felt one tear slowly come down his cheek. Judah, who had never looked away from Switzerland, also had tears streaming down his cheeks. Indisputably, Judah's heart had sunk to the lowest depth it had been in centuries, and Switzerland, the unsocial hermit, felt moved by the utter sorrow written in Judah's eyes. Gradually, he moved close to Judah.

Placing a hand on Judah's free shoulder, Switzerland bent over and quietly whispered, "I do not know what happens at your home, but I want you to know now that you are a great man. You are intelligent, understanding, even-tempered, accepting, and unique….and, the best roommate anyone could desire. Even when I was rude or gruff to you, you remained calm and patient with me and never meddled with me or attempted to anger me. Because of this, I cannot think of anyone else I would wish to be forced to live with besides you, not only because of your benevolent personality, but because….I do not know how to describe it….But….there's….something about you….you are one of the extremely few people I feel comfortable around….you and your sister. I….I am sorry for ignoring you at times and being…unfriendly to you. I….will miss you."

The more Switzerland admitted to Judah, the harder it was to speak, and soon, Switzerland nearly choked on his words, partly because he wasn't used to speaking such things to people, and partly because his throat was constricting in grief. The more he considered it, the more Switzerland realized that he truly would miss Judah.

Judah smiled at his roommate and choked back, "I forgive you…I will miss you too."

Switzerland sniffed deeply. Realizing he was close to crying, Switzerland began to pull away from Judah. Before Switzerland lifted his hand from Judah's shoulder, Judah gently latched onto his arm, and sobbed, "Thank-you….I never had a nation friend before…friendly masters, but not friends…like you."

Hearing those words, Switzerland froze. Was he Judah's friend? Before he could make a decision, other people came to Judah to agonize over his expulsion from school. Poland, America, Canada, England, and others came to cry with him, insult the principal, curse Iraq, and mourn over Judah's academic future that could have been. Eventually, Switzerland pulled out of the gathering, and walked away, while carefully biting his tongue in an attempt to hold back the tears in his eyes and the sadness growing in his heart.

The next day was even more heartbreaking for the two Jewish siblings. When the dreaded time came, sorrowfully came, Judah began trekking through the halls to the main exit. On his way, Judah found that many people watched him walk by for the last time. Indeed, many nations lined the hall to get one last view of him before he left their lives for who knows how long. He could be back next year, or he may never be able to return…after all, he was controlled by another nation…he may never be free to leave again. Israel escorted her brother through the halls, grasping his hand and arm as they walked. When they were walking down the last hallway, people started following them, determined to be with them as Judah walked out of the doors for the last time that year. Soon, Switzerland, Germany, Italy, Japan, England, France, America, and Canada clustered around Judah, speaking to him one last time. Each wished that they could somehow devise a way to keep Judah at the school, and each somberly asked Judah if there was anything they could do for him.

"Judah, anything you wish—tell me, I'll do it—it's the least you deserve for all the hard work you've done here," Germany proclaimed, briskly walking alongside Judah as he spoke.

"Guard my sister," Judah readily instructed, shifting the bag on his shoulder as he answered. Israel shifted her gaze from the ground to her brother's face when she heard that, trusting that he knew what he was doing.

"Judah, please, I want to help too—this is my house, after all, and I hate to see you leave like this, please, tell me, is there anything I can do to be of any service?" America pleaded, feeling slightly guilty that Judah was being sent away from a school in his land.

"Defend my sister," Judah rejoined, drawing Israel closer to him while he trudged along the corridors.

"Judah, you are an excellent student—I know I've said all this before, but I want you to understand that you do not deserve this….Please, give me something to do while you are away, surely there is something I may do for you…" England declared, straightening his jacket while he talked.

"Look out for my sister," Judah responded while gently squeezing Israel's hand tighter.

"What can I do—you've been so nice to me, what can I do in return?" Italy questioned, pushing through the group to trot beside Judah.

"Be gentle to my sister," Judah offered, wondering if he should add anything about not flirting with Israel. He decided that everything would be all right…surely, it would.

"Eh, Judah…is there anything you want me to do?" Canada Quietly posed, shyly stepping along the edge of the group.

"Listen to my sister with an open ear," Judah instructed, looking directly at Canada as if he was saying, "I know you're there…I won't forget you either." Canada straightened up as Judah noticed him, feeling a renewed sense of belonging as he was given a mission by his new friend. Canada determined not to fail.

On the edge of the crowd opposite from Canada, Japan said, "Judah, you should be leaving in honor for being one of the best students at this institution….Is there anything you want me to do to honor you?"

"Honor"—it was a word Judah usually didn't hear applied to him. That Judah was a dishonorable man was a lie. However, because various nations captured his home decade after decade, and because he was a servant for nation after nation, barely anyone at his home considered him honorable. At least, his masters never honored him. Where Judah came from, honor was deeply important. At times, it was hard for Judah to live without honor or respect, yet he had no choice. Now, since he had studied hard and learned much, and for many other reasons, various people approached him, pronouncing him worthy of honor and respect. Judah wasn't sure if he should accept these complements, but he heard them gratefully, and humbly. It comforted him to know that someone out there beyond his family truly appreciated him, and considered him worthwhile. As he stepped across the marble floors of the hallways, he pondered what to say to Japan. After some time, he answered with, "Honor my sister, and you honor me."

Gazing intently at Judah, Japan slowly nodded understandingly. Finally, France managed to find something to add to the conversation, and interjected,

"Well, is there anything you have to say to me?" As he spoke, France pushed closer to Judah, shoving England and America out of his way as he went to walk beside Judah.

Pondering what to tell France, Judah remained silent for a minute as he continued walking with his followers. At last, Judah answered, "Be kind to my sister without touching her."

France slowed as he heard that. Usually, France touched, caressed, and flirted with women whenever he felt like it. To France, touching was a way of expressing what he called ''love.'' (Whether France's definition of ''love'' was accurate is unknown. What is known is that he used touch to demonstrate his ''love.'') When Judah told France to show kindness to Israel without touching her, France heard the words as if they were a thousand fingernails scraping across a hundred chalkboards. It was as if Judah had commissioned France to stop breathing—that's how much France was used to touching those he felt like touching. While France puzzled over how to act towards Israel, the group moved towards the front doors, and numerous bystanders joined their procession. The more people crowded around Judah, the more Switzerland questioned whether he should be walking with Judah. He was already pushed to the edge of the gathering, but now he was being pushed to the edge of his temper. No matter how hard he tried to get back to Judah, the crowd shut him out. Switzerland did his best to be calm under the circumstances. As Switzerland attempted to pry through the people, Israel pulled her brother closer to herself, and leaned on him as they walked, feeling her heart tear again. Indeed, she wondered how she could survive without her brother.

Suddenly, as they sighted the looming front doors, a voice echoed down the halls behind them, "JUDAH! JUDAH! WAIT!"

Stopping as he heard his name called so desperately, Judah turned around. Judah's entourage parted for him, revealing somebody sprinting towards him. It was Lithuania. As Lithuania dashed closer, Judah recalled the day he found Lithuania in a hallway, sitting on the ground like an abused, friendless, depressed child. Judah recalled that on that day, he conversed with Lithuania, and comforted him. Judah wanted to encourage Lithuania, but he had no idea how deeply his words affected Lithuania, until now, as Lithuania was fervently running towards him with a look of intense anxiety and determination in his eyes.

When Lithuania reached Judah, he cried, literally cried, "I'm sorry I didn't come earlier—Russia wouldn't let me come—he hates you, and I don't know why! You've been so kind to me, and you barely know me—thank-you! Please, don't forget me….I know I won't forget you." As he spoke, Lithuania couldn't contain his emotions anymore, and tears fell from his green eyes. A kind smile spread across Judah's scarred face as he looked at his schoolmate.

"I will  _never_  forget you," Judah announced comfortingly as he shifted the bag on his shoulder. The group walked onward, steadily gaining more people until there was a large entourage packed around Judah. Eventually, the throng exited the main school building, traveled through the courtyard, and parted around the main archway leading to the school. A breeze stirred the reddened leaves on the trees as Judah embraced his sister one final time.

As Israel sobbed in her brother's arms, Judah whispered into her ear, "I love you—mourn for me like I am dead." Israel looked up at her brother, and nodded understandingly. She understood that her brother meant, "Mourn for me for a time, cry your tears, and then move on; do not spoil your time here by being depressed the rest of the school year—move on, and make me proud; I love you." Judah could surmise from the look in Israel's ice blue eyes that she received the message. Slowly, Judah drew away from Israel. Before he exited the school property, Judah paced around the spectators, greeting all who were willing to speak to him. When he reached Lithuania, Judah encouraged him one last time, gave him a side hug, and blessed him. Judah also blessed Switzerland, and told him that surely they would meet again. Taking one last look, Judah marveled at how he, one person, impacted such a number of people within a few months. He considered how close people could become without realizing it until they were separated. For a few moments, he surveyed the crowd and the school, memorizing every minute detail. After that, Judah departed. Israel's heart cracked deeper. Clouds gathered above. Indeed, the fight was a sorrowful incident with a heartrending aftermath. Once the dam of tension between Iraq and Judah split, it flooded all those nearby through Judah's expulsion from school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Reader,
> 
> Did I mention this was supposed to be sad?
> 
> I don't have much to say on this chapter, although I will say this:
> 
> There are times when I do not realize how much I depend on something until it is gone.
> 
> There are times when I do not see how much I care for someone, until I never see them again.
> 
> There are times when I do not understand how much I value something, until I lose it.
> 
> Hopefully, this scene will make you consider the people in your life, and make you question your attitudes toward them.
> 
> Be careful what you say to your parents, grandparents, friends, siblings and teachers, because the day may come when they are taken from you forever, and you can never apologize for all the things you did, and all the things you should have done.
> 
> I do not mean to strike fear, I merely want to open your eyes to the importance of the people around you.
> 
> There are people in my life who are gone, and I didn't realize how much I cared for them until I never saw them again.
> 
> Please, don't forget to be kind to those around you, it may be the last time you see them.
> 
> ~+~ PioneeringAuthor~+~


	6. Chapter 5: The Beginning of the Healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Reader,
> 
> This chapter is happier-please don't be angry at me for doing that to Judah!
> 
> It's part of the story, it needed to happen!
> 
> Please, try to understand, and keep reading.
> 
> ~+~ PioneeringAuthor

**Chapter 5**

**The Beginning of the Healing**

Israel's heart was breaking again. She couldn't remember the last time she was separated from her brother for an extended period of time. It was a horrible tragedy for her. However, she knew she  _must_  move on in her life. Even though she didn't want to get out of the bed in the morning, she knew she had to continue her studies. Thankfully, she had her new friends to help encourage her. India, for example, always made sure that Israel woke up, got dressed, brushed her thin, black hair, and plodded out of the bedroom. Indeed, India truly bolstered Israel. Others also supported her, among which were America and Canada. Those two boys always appreciated Israel, and sympathized with her. They did their best to cheer her up, along with all the other classmates who valued Israel and Judah. When Israel spoke of her brother, they listened intently, doing their best to help her mend after the trauma of being torn from him. Soon, Israel started to smile, as she recalled happier memories of Judah. Instead of crying, she began chuckling. Her heart was broken, but it was learning how to move forward and heal.

When Israel lost Judah, she not only lost a beloved brother, but also a helper, tutor, and close companion. Judah often helped Israel with studying-especially in math. Israel understood the concepts behind math, but she needed assistance in the actual calculations. Whereas Israel understood the concepts, and had trouble in the calculations, Judah both understood and calculated math precisely. Indeed, he possessed a logical mind. Since he was logical and handled mathematics well, he became Israel's tutor, and could easily pinpoint where she was erring. Often, it was the annoying, tiny things that threw her off, such as missing one minuscule minus sign in a problem or dropping a tiny negative. Thankfully, Judah had excellent eyesight and could both read and interpret Israel's handwriting and errors. (Israel had intelligible handwriting, but it wasn't as neat as Judah's. Being an organized, logical, precise man, Judah wrote in a neat, clear way, while his sister wrote in a more relaxed, artistic style which reflected her inner artist. Hence, although it may seem strange to those used to  _girls_  being the ones with the better handwriting, Judah's handwriting was more legible than Israel's. Of course, Israel's handwriting was more interesting to look at…how did I get started on this? Oh, yes, math *groans* math-sorry I got on the rabbit trail, there!) As I was trying to say  _originally_ , Judah not only comforted Israel when she felt out of place or disliked, but he also helped clarify things in school that confused her. Indeed, Judah left a vast canyon in Israel's life.

In case I didn't mention this earlier, there were certain people in Israel's life who greatly desired to take her mind off of Judah's expulsion, and cheer her up…especially India. Before India met Israel, she was terribly lonely. India spent several nights in a room alone while other girls had roommates. She felt misplaced without a roommate in a strange room in a strange building in a strange land. Finally, Israel arrived, and India had someone to fill the empty bed in the room. Israel's presence consoled India. Since Israel made India glad, India wanted Israel to be glad as well.

In case you haven't already guessed, India had the heart of a matchmaker, and for some unknown reason, she honestly believed that the best thing to do to take Israel's mind off Judah, was to put Israel's mind on someone else…in a romantic way. Although India believed that love wasn't necessary  _before_  marriage—the two people in question could always fall in love  _after_  they married—India did comprehend how  _powerful_  an emotion love was. Hence, she determined to somehow… _persuade_  Israel to fall in love in order to move forward.

After careful consideration, India selected America to be Israel's match. (Why? Well, for one thing, he accepted Israel. That alone was a major factor, considering how many people loathed Israel for some unknown reason. Also, Israel and America shared similar beliefs. Finally, America was…amusing to Israel. His extreme—well, maybe not extreme—loudness made Israel giggle. She found his mannerisms refreshingly funny. Because of this, India firmly decided to set them up somehow.) Although India was highly skilled at making up ideas, she was not very adept at making plans for those goals. In other words, neither she nor I had any idea how in the world she was going to somehow convince Israel and America to fall in love—but did that stop India? NO! She HAD to meddle in Israel's love life that didn't exist and force her dream to fruit (Okay, I'm done with my rant now). Overall, India wanted to gladden Israel in return for the kindness she received.

A few weeks after Judah left, as Israel was walking down a hall toward her class, India did something that would shift the way Israel viewed America: India pushed Israel.  
India was stepping alongside Israel, chatting with her about different topics, when America strode nearby. Remembering her secret plan to set up Israel and America, India grabbed America's attention. (Little did she know that America already spotted Israel and was already making his way towards them.) When America was close enough to Israel to catch her if she fell, India carefully ''tripped'' and bumped into Israel, sending Israel tottering forward, and causing Israel to drop some of her books. Seeing Israel was about to fall, America lunged forward, and caught Israel's petite shoulders before she completely lost her balance. Israel braced herself with one hand on America's chest and the other clutching her remaining books.

"Woah! You all right?" America interjected after steadying Israel.

"I'm fine—thank-you," Israel answered as she looked at America's face. Israel couldn't recall being this close to America before. Suddenly, she noticed how symmetrical his face was…how handsome he was…how blue his eyes were…. Indeed, America's eyes were a dazzling shade of blue. Israel stood there speechless as she leaned on America for support. Meanwhile, America was, once again, noting the icy shade of Israel's blue eyes, and silently remarking how lovely she looked with her black bangs hanging across her pale forehead.  
For the first time, Israel didn't worry that America was a strange man, and she didn't mind that he was holding her; in fact, she commented to herself how firm, yet, gentle his grip was on her arms…and how handsome he was…sooo handsome….

"Oh, I'm so sorry Israel! I didn't mean to push you—oh, my! Would you look at the time—I'm going to be late to class—bye!" India blurted out as she casually rushed away, calling over her shoulder as she left, "See you two later!"  
As she sprinted away, India observed that although Israel was watching her, America was still gazing at Israel. Israel watched India dash away, wondering if it was actually close to class time. Recalling India's matchmaker side, Israel began to suspect that India's "trip" was planned. Rapidly, Israel's mood changed. Immediately, she felt America's hand on her shoulder. Noting his clean fingernails, she flashed back to all the pain hands like those-the hands of men-had caused. America watched as fear crept into Israel's icy eyes, and her breathing seemed to gain speed.

"What's wrong?" America inquired worriedly as he loosened his grip on Israel.

Shifting her gaze to America, Israel stuttered, "I—I—need to go!"

Swiftly, she bent over, collected her fallen books, and before America could ask her further questions, she briskly walked away, trying not to break that  _one_  rule about running in the halls. Eyeing a clock nearby, America wondered why Israel and India were rushing about when there was still plenty of time to stop and chat before class. Confused at what happened and disheartened that Israel left abruptly, America trudged to his class room, pondering if he did something wrong…and remembering how soft and precious Israel's eyes looked to him.

As Israel entered her classroom, she again beheld the empty desk where Judah once sat. Even though she still deeply missed her brother, she felt comforted about it now. She sat in her chair, placed her books on the table, and waited. After a few moments, she decided to draw for relaxation. Quietly, she sketched out a picture, unsure of what it would become. As she drew, she realized that it was a face—America's face. Then she considered India's push and those few moments when her view of America shifted. For once, she observed how attractive he was as he steadily held her, and for those few moments, she ignored his gender and simply enjoyed his touch. A few moments later, she felt guilty for considering such things. She put away the picture and began arranging the books on her desk instead of thinking about certain blue-eyed Americans who I will not mention in this sentence.

Over the next few weeks, Israel gradually became accustomed to being separated from her brother, and slowly grew closer to her new friends…especially America. Although she did become friends with Canada, Italy, Germany, England, China, Switzerland, India, and Liechtenstein, Israel grew  _especially_  close to America. In case you didn't know, not only was America a friendly young man who accepted Israel, but America also shared similar interests with her. Both enjoyed being outdoors, and both were interested in archaeology, although neither had much experience in digging up artifacts. Through her life, Israel found it hard to let any men into her personal life—besides her brother. However, at the school she found she had no choice but to be around them every day. As she attended the school, she found that not all men wished to hurt her. In fact, she found that some men had similar problems to her—not being understood, being awkward around the opposite gender, et cetera. Over time, Israel allowed herself to grow close to men as well as women, and so, her circle of friends included a surprising amount of men. Out of all the men she knew, the one she bonded with the most—besides her brother—was America. Ever since she met him, Israel felt as if they were meant to be together in some way…perhaps even married (but she extremely doubted that). Secretly, America felt the same way (but always shoved it away). Nevertheless, the two enjoyed spending time together, and chatted over many things, from random school subjects to the stars in the sky. Indeed, America and Israel were growing quite warm with each other.

Of course, as Israel was becoming friendlier with certain people, certain  _other_  people were becoming more antagonistic with her…especially Iraq. Although Iraq never liked Israel, he found an entirely new level of detestation for her when Judah knocked him out in the fight. Every time he reflected on that fight, he felt a vague ache in the back of his jaw where that one tooth was rooted before Judah whacked it out of its socket. One day, Iraq vented his abhorrence for Israel once again.  
She was sitting under a tree while waiting for India to come back to her with some books they wanted to read together. While Israel reclined, Iraq approached her like a wolf about to devour its prey. He stalked up to her and menacingly spoke to her. He insulted her, emotionally abused her, and threatened her. Eventually, he insulted her beliefs and went as far as to say, "If your God really is separate from mine, then I'm sure he's left you by now because no matter where you go, you are  _always_  the downtrodden one."

At that moment, Israel could bear it no longer. Not only had Iraq clawed her heart wounds with his words, but he had also done what Israel deemed unthinkable—he slandered God. Over the centuries, in the darkest moments, there was always  _one_  person Israel knew she could turn to for help and comfort— _Adonai_ , her God. To hear anyone insult or slander God was a horrible event to Israel because of this. She didn't care if others didn't understand—God was  _her comfort_ , and she would  _never_  deny him, or hide her beliefs. She didn't need approval from anyone else—she followed what she  _believed_  was faithful no matter the cost. Because of this it not only tormented her, but enraged her to hear  _anyone_  speak against her God. For countless months Israel was forced to put up with Iraq's ire, and at last she reached her tolerance level. Hearing Iraq insult  _Adonai_  was the last straw for Israel. Instantly, she stood up and faced Iraq as she never had before, and fearlessly, furiously, flew at him.

Shocked and startled at what was happening, Iraq stepped back in silence as Israel cried, "How dare you! You know nothing of my God and his ways, and anything that you think you know must be lies! For decades upon decades I have been your faithful servant and this is how you repay me—by slandering my God and insulting my beliefs? Why? What have I done to deserve this? You say I am always downtrodden, but you failed to notice that whoever down-trods me and my people are downtrodden themselves. No, God has not left me—he still keeps watch over me and preserves my life! Don't you realize that if God had not been with me I would have surely died by now? Nation after nation has attacked me, enslaved my people, outlawed my beliefs, tortured me, and threatened me, and yet, here I stand, still alive, despite their efforts—that  _alone_  is  _proof_  that my God lives. You may insult me, my brother, our family, but do not even _think_  about insulting my God, because he does not deserve any insults, ever! If he wasn't a merciful, kind being, he would have struck you dead for speaking such words against him! He holds every breath you breathe in your lungs, he holds all of your atoms together with a thought-don't you DARE speak against him again, for those words may be your LAST!"

Meanwhile, as India was heading back with the books, she spied Iraq heading towards Israel. Fearing disaster, India dashed away to get help, and located England, who was discussing something with France, America, Germany and Italy. India informed them of what she feared, and they all hurried away with her, and arrived in time to hear the last of Iraq's insults, and Israel's speech. After Israel finished venting her wrath, she breathed heavily, and paced back from Iraq, surprised at what she said. She couldn't recall the last time she screamed at Iraq like that. The moment astonished her. For a few moments, no spoke a word. Everyone was speechless to witness such an outburst from Israel, who before was viewed as someone who  _never_  became angry.

At length, Germany decided Israel needed all the space she could have and ordered, "Iraq, back away from Israel."

Still aghast, Iraq skulked away. England tentatively stepped towards Israel and inquired if she was unharmed. Israel stared at him, a look of anger, bewilderment, and guilt in her pale blue eyes.

"He didn't hurt me….I shouldn't have been so loud," Israel quietly replied.

"I'm sure you had just cause to…express yourself as you did. However, I must warn you, the principal probably will not appreciate what you said," England warned as he consoled her.

While England finished speaking, America and France neared Israel.

Before anyone else could speak, Israel determined, "That's what I should do—tell the principal what I did…"

With that, she plodded to Iraq, apologized deeply for her anger, and trudged to the principal. She didn't apologize for her speech, but for the pure hatred she felt for him in those moments, and the harsh way she addressed him. Regardless, she apologized, when others may have ignored Iraq completely. As she left, Everyone gawked at her. No one besides Iraq felt Israel needed punishment, and yet, she was willingly going to receive punishment—inconceivable! When Israel informed the principal of what happened, he stared at her for what seemed like a thousand years.

Eventually, he calmly replied, "I feel guilty enough for sending your brother away—tell your student council president to punish you. In truth, I do not seek to reprimand you, but I do seek to maintain order at this complex." After he finished speaking, the principal gazed into Israel's eyes consolingly, wishing there was something else he could do.

When Israel reached England, she announced that he, England, needed to punish her. Of course, England didn't want to punish Israel for anything—he disliked Iraq, to say the least, and truly believed that Iraq deserved every word. Sadly, England had no choice but to reprimand Israel. As he was puzzling over what to command, he spotted the janitor. Considering how much aid the janitor needed, England decided that it would be best to sentence Israel to help the Janitor. He didn't want to force her into anything, but since he was commanded to punish her, he decided on what he thought would be easy for her—helping clean. Humbly, Israel accepted her fate, and was ordered to assist the janitor for several weeks. Israel understood that England didn't wish her any harm, and chose to remain friendly with him, as well as the other people she knew.

Later in the day, while everyone else was relaxing or studying, Israel was scrubbing dirt tracks off the hallway floors, considering her life, wondering how different things would be if  _she_  was the conqueror instead of the conquered. She wondered how she would treat others—if she would be a bossy, rude, arrogant, cruel master as some, or if she would be kind, understanding, loving, humble, and reasonable. She wondered how different her life would be if her parents were still alive and not slain before her eyes. Scrubbing steadily, she wondered if she should apologize to Iraq again for screaming at him. She already forgave him and apologized to him because she knew God wanted her to do that, but she felt that it wasn't enough. The scars on her heart told her she was terribly wicked for yelling at Iraq in such a way. Her heart felt like a heavy stone in her chest with the guilt and the depression. It wasn't merely Iraq that was weighing her down—it was all the other troubles in her life. She feared so many things, so many people….She wished her life was different, that she didn't have to live with the fear of being hurt, insulted, slandered, whipped, beaten, starved, left in the gutters…again. She tried to push it all back, ignore it—but she couldn't, because it kept returning. Besides repeatedly having harsh overlords, there were other things constantly reminding her of her past: her scars. Whenever she bent over a river to drink—there was her marred reflection, reminding her of what Rome did.

Whenever she changed clothes, her scarred arms and legs showed her what crusaders and others had done to her, as well as that mark on her chest from the time Iraq attempted to kill her. Thankfully, Iraq never attempted that again—now he mainly tried to kill her spirit, hope, and determination instead of her body. Israel sometimes wondered which was worse. There were other scars besides these, but they were on her back, hence, they did not remind as painfully as the other, more obvious ones. Nevertheless, the scars that bore the deepest pain, and ached the most, and wailed the loudest in Israel's ears, were the ones that no human could see visibly—the ones on her heart. These scars declared that everything Iraq said was right—that she was a weak, worthless, unintelligent, useless, over-reactive, corrupt, ugly piece of dirt…especially ugly (according to Iraq, remember). Indeed, the wounds and scars on Israel's heart and skin greatly affected the way she lived, not only around men but with herself…. If God had not stepped in and comforted her time and again, Israel would have gone insane. Indeed, the emotional wounds on her heart affected everything in her life. In the hallway, reminiscing while cleaning, Israel reminded herself that, truly, God was good when no one else was.

As she sloshed her sponge in the bucket, Israel heard footsteps nearing her. A sense of dread fell over her as she questioned if it was Iraq coming to harass her again. Little did she know that what would happen next would alter her life in a major way, through a minor moment. Looking up at who was approaching, Israel was both relieved and confused as she spotted France strutting towards her. When he was in front of her, France stopped and greeted her with a smile.

"Hello, Israel! How are things going?" France cheerfully asked, hoping to brighten her mood slightly.

"I'm cleaning…" Israel acknowledged, unsure if she should smile back or honestly display her feelings while she squeezed the sponge just above the bucket of water. The smile faded from France's face. (Obviously, the 'smiling cheerily' tactic didn't help the mood, so he quit it.)

"Israel…I truly am sorry all this has happened to you…I—I wanted you to know that Iraq was reprimanded, and…you have friends here who want to comfort you…if you wish," France disclosed gently, hoping Israel would somehow brighten with the news.

"Thank-you, honestly, thank-you," Israel responded gratefully. For a few moments, the two gazed at each other, each waiting for the other to say something. Finally, Israel commented, "I—I suppose I better get back to cleaning now." With that, she began scrubbing a smudge near France's black boot.

Carefully stepping back, France sighed, "It breaks my heart to see such a beautiful girl on her hands and knees scrubbing away like a scullery maid."

At those words, Israel slowed her scrubbing and quietly stated, "I'm not beautiful, and this is my punishment."

Initially, France opened his mouth to contradict Israel's words, but then stopped. For a time, he raked his mind, attempting to find some words to convince her that she was beautiful. Ignoring her facial scar, France knew Israel was attractive. Of course, knowing something and proving it are two different things. France delve into his mind, searching for the proper words to say to prove his view.

Suddenly, he knew what to do, and he instructed Israel, "Wait here—I will be back—hold that thought!"

With that, he sprinted away to the men's dorm, leaving Israel wondering where he expected her to go. Israel continued scrubbing. Eventually, Israel heard clomping footsteps, and perceived it was France charging back. Curiously, she peered up, and witnessed France slow his steps to a walk, and waited while he approached her. As he reached Israel, France panted, and showed her a deep red rose. Israel couldn't remember the last time she eyed such a lovely rose.

Timidly, she gazed into France's blue eyes and asked, "Is this for…me?"

Catching his breath, France answered, "Yes…It is for you, because I want you to see what I see in you—that you are a lovely lady."

Puzzled, Israel butted in with, "But—I'm scarred, surely you can see that…everyone can."

Gently spinning the rose in his fingertips, France parried her comment with, "Take a look at this rose—see the thorns? Everyone sees the thorns, and agrees that they are harsh, but everyone also agrees that the rose is still a lovely flower, even with the ugly thorns. Similarly, I see your scars, but I still consider you lovely. You have not lost your beauty, it is simply…a little marred by your scars, as these thorns mar this flower's beauty by making it painful to hold a certain way. Never forget that you are a very pretty girl, no matter how many thorns you have…understand?"

Stunned at France's explanation, Israel stared at him silently as he handed her the thorny rose. For a few moments, she was speechless. At length, she looked up at France and nodded slowly. Smiling again, France straightened up, and departed. Israel wordlessly watched him leave, and marveled that he should say such things to  _her_. Looking at the rose, Israel considered what France said, and admitted to herself,  _Perhaps I am…a little pretty. Yes, I am…a little pretty—not beautiful, but pretty. Yes, pretty…I—I am—pretty…perhaps._

Although it was confusing to her, Israel felt that she needed to repeat those words to herself. She was pretty. The more she accepted it, the calmer she felt. She sniffed the deep red rose, and pricked herself on a thorn. As she inspected her finger, she realized that France was right…in a way. The rose had its thorns—Israel had her scars. Somehow, that thought comforted her. From that moment, the deep, half-healed wounds on her heart began to fully heal. Although it may seem like a simple, insignificant moment, that one moment with France truly did initiate her full emotional healing. Indeed, as the negative words people spoke over her negatively affected her, so the positive words positively impacted her—even if it was one small conversation as this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Reader,
> 
> Believe it or not, words can bring life or death.
> 
> As you just read, a small conversation can encourage someone, or it can depress them.
> 
> Next time you speak to someone, remember to speak uplifting, life-bringing words to them.
> 
> You may save someone's life by being kind.
> 
> Also, be aware that the words you need to hear may come from the most unlikely sources.
> 
> PioneeringAuthor ~+~


	7. Chapter 6: Love Blossoms

**Chapter 6**

**Love Blossoms**

Months passed, and the time came for the school dance. As the day neared for the dance, all the girls grew more excited—except for Israel. She didn't know how to dance like the other nations. She had her own kind of dances she did with her brother, and she couldn't imagine dancing with a stranger. Besides that, she felt as if nobody would want to dancing with her. Thankfully, the other girls disagreed. Although Israel believed she wouldn't be a good dancer, and that nobody would ask her to dance, the other girls noticed how America and Germany beheld her, and insisted that she think positively on the subject. Hence, Israel became...semi-enthusiastic about the upcoming dance.

Although the dance finally caught Israel's interest, there was one small problem: Israel didn't have any presentable clothes for the occasion. Once again, she fretted. Of course, the other girls refused to falter. Only India knew the full details of Israel's life, but the other girls recognized that Israel had a harsh life through her facial scar, and the way she acted around men. Because they cared, certain girls wanted Israel to enjoy herself at the dance. Hence, they put their heads together, and decided to do something that Israel could never remember any foreigner doing for her: sew a dress for her. Because it had been decades since Israel found kindness from foreigners, she didn't know what to say when they told her their plans.

Tears flooded her eyes. Gratefully, she accepted their offer, and the girls began to measure her, pick out material, and construct the dress. Due to certain circumstances, Hungary refused to help. She distanced herself from Israel and began to detest her. Apparently, Austria, who deeply loved music, started talking to Israel about what kind of music she liked. Israel, not wanting to offend him, spoke of her musical preferences. Over time, they spoke more frequently, and Hungary took notice. Quickly, Hungary became suspicious, and her suspicion turned into jealousy. Soon, Israel irritated her. Eventually, Hungary's irritation frothed into frustration, which scalded her into utter hatred for Israel. Hence, Hungary wanted nothing to do with Israel or helping her get a dress. Israel wished Hungary would speak to her, inform her of what was upsetting her, but Hungary avoided her when possible. It was one more sorrowing moment for Israel. Thankfully, she still had many kind schoolmates who cared for her enough to give her whatever she needed to feel worthy of attending the dance.

For centuries, Israel received pain from outsiders, and now she was shown kindness through the girls' determination to make a dress for her. As they came together for Israel, it was clear they genuinely cherished her. Israel hardly comprehended their generosity. Usually, people harmed her; hence, it felt perplexing to receive such care from foreigners. When the dress was finished, Israel was shocked to see how lovely it looked. After she put it on, she was even more surprised at her reflection. Staring into the mirror, Israel couldn't believe how well the dress complemented her form, and accentuated her face in a flattering way. It was a silky, floor length, long-sleeved, blue dress. When Israel tried it on, she suddenly remembered how much she admired blue, and felt completely unworthy of such a wonderful piece of fabric. However, what amazed her most was how, for the first time in countless decades, Israel felt…pretty -not beautiful—simply pretty. Nevertheless, it was a huge step for her to feel pretty. Finally, Israel couldn't handle it anymore—the generosity and thoughtfulness of the girls and their work overwhelmed her.

"Oh…I—I can't accept this—It's—it's too good for me!" Israel objected while still marveling at herself in the mirror.

"No, you  _can_  accept it—we made it especially for you!" Ukraine deflected Israel's comment with a caring look in her eyes.

"Yes, please, accept it, my roommate—you've been so good to me, let me be good to you—take it!" India insisted while examining a hem on the bottom of the dress.

"Israel, you look so lovely in the dress—you really should keep it." Liechtenstein added.

"Yes, please take it!" Seychelles encouraged Israel, nodding her head fervently.

"Israel, we made it for you, no one else should have it—please take it," Belgium agreed while picking up scraps of fabric off the ground.

"But…I—I—I—I'm not—worthy of something as—as—wonderful as this gift!" Israel choked as tears stung her eyes and her throat began to close. She couldn't remember the last time she had any clothes given to her, especially not such becoming dresses. As Israel began to unfasten the dress, Ukraine's eyes clouded over with worry.

"What makes you say that you are unworthy?" Ukraine inquired as she gently touched Israel's shoulder.

Silently, Israel looked away, unsure of what to say. What could she possibly say in one sentence to explain what happened over the course of several centuries? Because of this conundrum, she remained silent.

"Israel, you are a wonderful, compassionate, understanding roommate—I will not allow you to think you are unworthy of any kindness! Please, take the dress—we all know you secretly want to keep it," India persisted as her brown eyes met Israel's blue ones.

All the other girls in the room gathered close to Israel and encouraged her. At length, Israel broke down into tears, and accepted the dress. After suffering from outsiders for countless years, Israel hardly believed the gentleness of these girls, and gratefully allowed them into her heart as friends.

Days passed. When the dance was about a week away, America decided to ask Israel something. As Israel was studying with India beside their favorite oak tree, America approached them. Seeing America, India grinned at Israel for a moment and then greeted America with,

"Why, America, how wonderful to see you- Why don't you study with us?"

"Well, a hero always enjoys sitting with his friends!" America accepted as he lounged on the grass nearby.

He waved at Israel in a friendly gesture as she silently smiled back. The three went over different subjects, reviewing facts, memorizing rules, and stabbing math problems for some time before America rounded up the courage to interject,

"Israel, may I ask you something?"

Looking at America, Israel said, "Of course—which subject is it in?" She believed he meant a school question.

"It's in…social subjects," America nervously replied, unsure of how to begin.

"What subject is that?" Israel questioned with a puzzled expression on her face, her ice-blue eyes slightly squinted and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Oh, it's not a school subject—I wanted to ask you a…personal question," America explained, hoping he didn't sound like a…unintelligent person.

As soon as he said, "personal question," India straightened up, her mind working furiously, her face betraying her inner excitement and curiosity through her eyes and grin.

"Oh—I see! What is it?" Israel exclaimed, slightly relieved to know that it was NOT another math problem, or a book that she forgot to read.

Before she could fully relax, Israel realized that a personal question meant possibly a question she didn't want a man to ask. It was hard enough for her to become used to speaking to men on a friendly basis—but to answer a deep, personal question was nearly too much for Israel. As she leaned back on her hands in the grass, Israel gazed at America with calm apprehensiveness. Thankfully, all America wanted to ask was,

"I was just wondering the other day…Uhm…You know, you don't have to, but, I was just thinking…Can I escort you to the dance?"

Inwardly, India was dancing for joy when she heard that.

Outwardly, India raised her brown eyebrows and commented, "Well, what a thoughtful thing to say, America! And Israel's answer would be…" India trailed off and turned her gaze to her roommate with a hopeful, encouraging, gleam.

"I thought everyone was invited to the dance," Israel pointed out as she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion again.

"Well, everyone is, but I thought it would be nice if we could walk together, and sit together—you know, things like that…if you want…It would be…a…good way to…better acquaint ourselves…in a relaxed…environment," America replied, trying not to sound too desperate to spend extra time with her.

Israel stared at America in surprise. She didn't know what to say. Meanwhile, India slightly nodded, indicating that Israel should agree. However, Israel's deep, buried emotional wounds warned her not to let a man near. After some time, Israel felt the inner urge to accept. She felt a gentle peace enter into her mind as she considered accepting. Finally, she accepted.

"Really? THANKS! Thank-you so much! I really mean it! Okay, the hero has to get ready now! BYE!" America joyfully declared as he, literally, jumped up from his seat and threw his hands into the air with glee.

As soon as he finished speaking, America charged off to tell his friends of his amazing accomplishment. Watching America leave, Israel questioned if she made the proper decision, while fear crept into her heart. While Israel's eyes tinted with fear, India's gleamed with exuberance.

Turning to her roommate, India lilted, "This is wonderful! You'll get a bit of extra time with him!"

Snapping out of her worries, Israel faced India and said, "Oh…yes…I will."

Hence, America was going to escort Israel to the dance.

When the long-anticipated day of the dance arrived, Israel was having second thoughts, while India was convincing her to go.

"I…I think I would rather go to bed early—but you may still go," Israel quietly deferred, hoping India would leave her alone.

Israel sat on her bed as she spoke, betraying through her eyes the fear and poor self-image that was holding her back from any enjoyment.

Although Israel acted as if she wanted to sleep, India recognized the truth, and bluntly replied, "Israel, we both know that you want to go—so come with me!"

India secretly plotted to nudge Israel and America into a relationship to bring Israel out of her emotional turtle shell, whether or not Israel liked it. Hence, she was determined to do  _anything_  to get Israel to the dance. Meanwhile, Israel believed that she would be misplaced there, considering how attractive the  _other_  girls were. The wounds on her heart still forced her to believe that no man would ever love her, or desire to be close to her.

Looking at her feet, Israel commented, "It's nothing more than a casual assemblage—why should I go when I see them every day?"

"You should go because  _you agreed_  to go with America," India answered while pointing directly at Israel with her entire hand.

Lifting her gaze to India, Israel realized that she couldn't argue with that, and decided to get dressed. Hence, Israel and India prepared for the dance.

Eventually, Israel was walking into the school gymnasium with America at her side. After worrying repeatedly for days, Israel was at the dance. (I would love to go into the details of how Israel and America danced many dances together, and how America became incredibly jealous when Germany danced with her twice, but unfortunately, I do not have time for that; hence, you will have to live without that information.)

As she danced, Israel found herself enjoying being with a foreign man. Deep within her, there was a longing to be loved by a man that had been lying dormant. For many seasons, Israel turned to her God for comfort, and received the love she desired, but was too afraid to allow herself to love others. Indeed, she loved her brother, she loved the animals she cared for—but to allow herself to love a foreign man was far beyond her reach.

After being hurt by countless outsiders, she unconsciously shut them out of her heart. Suddenly, here was a place where she was safe…mostly safe...from pain. Suddenly, here were men that treated her kindly. Suddenly…she began to feel things she never felt before. Gazing into America's eyes through the evening, Israel felt her heart flutter, and wondered what that meant. Little did she know that America was feeling the same way, thinking the same thoughts…and also wondering if they were meant to be married. As America and Israel danced, they unknowingly opened themselves into an intimate, deep bond that would blossom into a deep love…if Israel would allow herself to love him.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Reader,
> 
> Although it is rather upsetting to me, I will inform you of this:
> 
> In modern times, the Hungarian government is highly anti-semitic.
> 
> Hence, I needed a reason for Hungary to hate Israel. After all, I cannot make excuses for everyone... However, I found it hard to reconcile Hungary's friendly side with the fact that she's anti-semitic right now.
> 
> Since Hungary loves Austria, I thought it would be logical if he was somehow involved in making Hungary dislike Israel.
> 
> Austria and Israel both enjoy music, so it seemed logical that they would talk about music.
> 
> Hence, Hungary became jealous, then frustrated, then angry.
> 
> I'm not angry with Hungary; I feel it is disheartening that Hungary doesn't like Israel.
> 
> Of course, there are plenty of other nations against Israel, but I can't go into all the details, especially since I don't know them all.
> 
> Please don't be frustrated with me-I cannot abide giving inaccurate information, and I couldn't make excuses for everybody, so I had to make Hungary hate Israel.
> 
> ~+~ PioneeringAuthor


	8. Chapter 7: Changes Through the Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Reader,
> 
> Did I mention that this story is deeply rooted in history?
> 
> Well, here's more of it!
> 
> By the way, since the Axis powers were allied during World War 2, anything past World War 2 I label as "Beyond."
> 
> ~+~ PioneeringAuthor

 

* * *

**Part 2:**

**Axis Powers Hetalia and Beyond**

**Chapter 7**

**Changes through the Years**

Time flew. Israel finished school that year, and reunited with her brother during the summer. While he was expelled from school, Judah found he had extra free time while his masters were gone, and used a great portion of it to study  _Torah._  After a few weeks, he felt it was wise to learn a trade while Iraq wasn't forcing him into endless tasks. Sadly, Judah found it hard to become an apprentice at _anything_ —no one wanted him…except for one goldsmith. Hence, while Israel was still in school, Judah learned a goldsmith's trade to help pass the time.

When Israel came home, she was speechless at what Judah showed her. They all knew that Judah was an apprentice goldsmith; he wrote about it in his letters to Israel. However, when they examined his workmanship firsthand, it astounded them. When Israel learned that her brother desired to be a goldsmith, she was dumbfounded. Although both siblings were logical and creative, Israel was the dominantly creative one while Judah was more logical. Knowing this, Israel found it hard to picture her brother designing jewelry. For months, she continued to read his letters and puzzle over what he would create. Now that she saw his work firsthand, she was amazed. The jewelry was as orderly as it was lovely. Besides gleaming brighter than most bracelets and necklaces, Judah's projects were perfectly linked, fastened, shaped, and beaten. Indeed, his work would last a lifetime. Israel was proud.

Although Judah greatly enjoyed his learning, he halted his goldsmith training to return to his work as a servant…until Turkey observed what he could do. When Turkey found one of the bracelets Judah made, he felt it would be a waste of Judah's talents to halt his training. Hence, Judah was allowed to continue his apprenticeship, instead of being forced to quit.

Decades passed, and something happened that would once again completely shift Israel's world. One of the largest, deadliest, unprecedented wars in the world occurred: World War 1. It was so surprisingly devastating that many named it 'the war to end all wars.' On one side were the 'Entente Powers:' America, Britain, France, and many, many others. Their opponents were the 'Central Powers:' Germany, Austria-Hungary, Turkey, and others. In the end, over 37 million deaths were counted among the military  _and_  the civilians. When the treaty was signed, Germany and the central powers were forced to take the blame for starting the war, and Germany was given behemothic fines.

Furthermore, political boundaries were re-drawn around the world, and Turkey was forced to give some of his territory to Britain, including Israel, Judah, and Iraq. Turkey was also compelled to give Syria to France. Hearing this news, Israel was surprised that she was being  _given_  away. Usually, someone rushed in, won a war, and  _conquered_  her. This time, everyone fought each other and someone decided that she should be a  _peace offering_. Israel wasn't sure what to think of her situation. She also wasn't sure if she would enjoy living with England. Although it seemed as if England would take care of her, Israel had a feeling that it wouldn't end well. Little did she know that a few decades later, her time with England would end in one of the most exciting and dangerous times of her life.

Over the next years, time seemed to speed up as events unfolded one after the other. While attempting to pay off the unbearable debt he had, Germany sickened into a state of hyperinflation. Soon, Germany needed to establish a new currency. After some time, that new currency's worth shrank down to one  _trillionth_  of what it once was, and another currency had to be established…and then another one. Eventually, he grew desperate. The other Central Powers had their own problems as well, but what would occur in Germany would start one of the most horrific events in history. Among the distress and the shame arose a man who claimed he had the answer. This man declared that he could restore Germany to the greatness of his past.

Soon, the people chose him as their leader…and the consequences would be devastating. The man's name was Adolf Hitler. Along with his promises of restoration, Hitler spread his ideas of natural selection—that one people group was higher than another was, and that all others should be exterminated. There was one group in particular that Hitler detested: the Jews. Hitler spread his hatred for the Jews and other, ''lesser'' people throughout Germany. Hitler repeatedly used the same lies, and eventually, people believed them. In a breath of time, Hitler brainwashed Germany into hating the Jews as much as he did. Thankfully, many German Jews fled to other nations, realizing where Hitler's ideals and teachings were leading. Nevertheless, what occurred in the short years to follow was  _horrific_.

Soon after Germany annexed Poland, the next world war began. In the aftermath, about 60 million deaths were totaled,  _not_  including those who died of disease. Among those were approximately 11 million victims of what became known as "the Holocaust." These victims included, but were not limited to, Gypsies, "religious dissenters", political prisoners, and Jews…especially Jews. Although the precise number is unclear, it is estimated that 6 million Jews were slain, which would range from between one-third to one-half of the world Jewish population at that time. When the war was finally over, it was, indeed, a time of rejoicing…and mourning.

Israel and Judah were utterly aghast and confused at what occurred before and during that time. Israel remembered meeting Germany decades before and couldn't believe that he would kill about a third of her people. She remembered how they advised each other, studied together, and enjoyed long conversations together. After those pleasant moments, Israel could barely fathom the concept of Germany harming her or her people purposefully. Before World War Two, Israel believed the hardest thing she could forgive was what Rome did to her—not only did he flog her, shame her and enslave her, but he also murdered her parents  _in front of her_. Now, she questioned which was harder to forgive: a ruler tormenting her, or one she called her friend turning and butchering her people.

Judah twisted the same questions in his mind. In those days, they cried more than they spoke, and prayed harder than they had in ages. England, their new master, wanted to encourage them, but nothing came to his mind that was anywhere near comforting. Whether it is believable, Judah and Israel, after deep, emotional pain, remembered their father's dying words, and forgave Germany and  _everyone else_  involved in The Holocaust. They both knew where refusing to forgive would lead, and they didn't want that. Although it was intensely grueling, Israel and Judah forgave what happened in those years.

In the years after The Holocaust, there was a desperation among the Jews for a safe place—a country of their own. When England first gained Israel and Judah, his boss seemed to agree that one day Israel and Judah would have their own house again. Israel was surprised to hear those words. After centuries of believing the prophecy that one day she would be an official country again, it was dream-like to be actually hearing such a thing discussed. The fading embers of hope in her heart were re-kindled. Regrettably, England's boss didn't come through.

In the 1920's, England not only closed off certain areas of the British Mandate of Palestine to Jewish settlement, but also handed over portions of land to the French Mandate of Syria. Nonetheless, thousands of Jews still immigrated to Israel's land However, when the Holocaust began, the numbers of immigrants shot up immensely. Unfortunately, the Palestinian Arabs didn't appreciate the large influx of Jews (Although they didn't have their own country, they did have a personification, and he was determined to protest). As Jews flooded in, the Arabs revolted. Although it started out as strikes, it led to violence and death. Eventually the revolt was quenched.

To ensure that there would be no more violence over immigrants, England issued a paper declaring a limit of about 10,000 Jewish immigrants each year from 1940-1944, as well as 25,000 refugees in case of emergencies. Because of that paper, England refused numbers of Jews from entering Palestine, regardless of their situation. After hearing of Hitler and the Nazis, Israel could hardly believe such a thing would happen. She understood England merely did what he thought was necessary, but it was heartbreaking nonetheless to hear that her people couldn't enter their ancestors' land. Thinking on all the events of the past few years, Israel sometimes felt as if she needed to forgive one more atrocity every day…and she knew the only way she could was through her God. Indeed, she cried out to God for deliverance, for peace, for wisdom, for the homeland he promised them—and after centuries of waiting, after countless years of despair, in the aftermath of the Holocaust, she received her promise.

Within the next years, there was a violent clash in the British Mandate of Palestine for a free Jewish state. There were certain Jewish groups determined to be free of British rule, and they fought against England for their freedom. It was during this time that numbers of Jewish refugees attempted to enter Israel's land, and were turned away. Finally, England couldn't bear the problems anymore—the guilt, the struggle, the immigrants—and he withdrew from Israel's borders, allowing the United Nations to decide what to do. After some deliberation in the World Meeting, it was decided that a Jewish state and an Arab state should be formed in the land of Palestine. The British mandate would terminate.

On May 14, 1948—Iyar 5 on the Jewish calendar—Israel and Judah declared themselves independent a few hours before the British mandate would expire. Within eleven quick minutes, America acknowledged their freedom. Immediately after, the Soviet Union, which was mainly comprised of Russia, "called" for the United Nations to accept Israel. Of course, they did. For the first time in over a thousand years, Israel and Judah were free. They didn't have a master abusing them, tasking them, insulting them, cursing them, or persecuting them—they were free. Indeed, they were free.

For the first time in ages, Israel's name was "Israel" or, more specifically, "The State of Israel," or "Northern Israel." She wasn't "Syria Palestina," or, "Mandatory Palestine," or anything other than "Israel"—she was herself, her own nation. Not only was she allowed to have her own  _name_ , but she could speak her own  _language_  as well. She didn't have to study a master's foreign tongue—she could speak whatever language she desired. Ever since she was a child she had anticipated this, and it finally came. After violent clashes, horrific wars, and terrible pain, the prophecy was finally fulfilled, and Israel was re-founded in  _one_  day.

Although Israel and Judah were independent, their troubles didn't end overnight. The  _day after_  they gained their independence, their Arab neighbors assaulted them from all sides. Syria, Iraq, Jordan, Lebanon and Egypt invaded Israel and Judah together, and fought alongside Palestinian Arabs, who had their own personification in the man known as "Palestine". Before Israel and Judah were independent, there was a hard struggle between them and Palestine, erupting into a type of civil war—but this was beyond that. They were constantly defending themselves from attacks, and hoping each day to live to see the end of the war.

As the war progressed, Israel and Judah defied the odds against them, and not only defeated their attackers, but also  _gained_  around 60% more land in the process. In about a year from the start of the war, they reached an uneasy peace agreement, and temporary borders were drawn in what was known as the 1949 armistice agreements. (This war would be known as the "First Arab-Israeli war," in English, "the War for Independence," in Hebrew, and "The Catastrophe," In Arabic.)

As part of the armistice agreements, the city of Jerusalem was divided between Jordan and Israel. (Jerusalem carries some of the holiest, if not THE holiest, sites in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. To have it divided between east and west was terribly disheartening to Israel and Judah, to say the least.) Sometime after the armistice agreements, America England and France signed their own agreement to pursue peace in the Middle East in whatever way possible, using force only if necessary. They didn't want war, an arms race, or any hindrance of the oil flow from the Middle East to the West. Although the agreements were meant for peace, there was still tension and attacks periodically. Indeed, the struggles continued.

In the years following the First Arab-Israeli War, Israel and Judah faced  _more_  challenges. As numbers of Palestinians Immigrated  _from_  Israel to her neighboring Arab nations, thousands of Jews immigrated  _to_  Israel from various parts of the world. This was a fulfillment of another prophecy—one that predicted that one day Israel's people would be brought from the corners of the earth back to their homeland. It amazed Israel to see the written words come alive. However, the influx of people caused major economic problems. Israel did her best to house all the immigrants in camps or abandoned houses, but that was only  _one_  obstacle.

Her unemployment rate was high, her brother and she were falling into debt, they had little foreign currency, and with more people entering over the years, their problems grew. They became sick, and soon had to ration supplies. At first, they rationed food. Eventually, they rationed basically everything from flour to furniture, and the food rations were down to a minimum calorie requirement. Israel and Judah knew they needed a different plan than austerity, and began searching their options. Although taking another loan seemed logical, they knew that they couldn't keep taking out loans from foreign nations—they were already in debt from that. Furthermore, the amount of money they needed was tremendous—they didn't want to beg for money the rest of their lives.

What they needed was their own income—not something they would be forced to pay back in the future. For weeks, they considered how they were going to get the proper finances to stabilize their economy. In the midst of their fevers and coughs, an idea sparked. During the Holocaust, Germany confiscated millions of dollars' worth of Jewish goods. Since Israel and Judah had hundreds of thousands of Holocaust survivors or descendents, it was logical that the survivors (or the survivor's nation) should receive what was stolen from them. Although they knew it was indescribably controversial, Israel and Judah decided to request Germany to physically pay for his crimes against the Jews during the Holocaust.

It wasn't for revenge or any kind of malice, but for  _economic health_  that they considered this plan. Understanding that many, if not  _all,_ of their Jewish citizens would consider it an outrage, Israel and Judah approached the four countries occupying West Germany (England, America, France, and Russia), and presented their request for reparations. Considering that they gained about 500,000 Holocaust survivors, and that each absorption cost about 3,000 dollars, Israel and Judah calculated that if Germany paid the price for the refugees, he would owe them around 1.5  _billion_  dollars.

Furthermore, Judah determined that Nazis pillaged approximately 6 billion dollars worth of Jewish property. Hence…Germany owed them a lot of money, if he would pay back what his government stole. While explaining to Germany's occupants their desires, Israel and Judah emphasized that  _no amount of money_  could make up for what Germany or Prussia did to the Jews, or the rest of the world. Nevertheless, they made it clear that they wanted these reparations for several reasons…mainly economic. Germany grasped all of this.

Feeling the weight of his guilt, Germany was willing to pay Israel anything she or her brother wanted, and began negotiations with them in 1952. Even before they signed any papers, Israel's people were enraged at the thought of any reparations with Germany, and extreme debate broke out within and without the  _Knesset_  (Israel's Legislative branch). Besides the intense arguments, there were riots, parcel bombs, and protests, among other things breaking out over the issue of reparations with Germany. Nevertheless, Israel and Judah signed the papers. In 1952 Germany began paying Israel and Judah a sum of 3  _billion_  marks over 14 years. In those years, Israel and Judah used the income from Germany to stabilize their economy.

With the challenge of economic sickness behind them, Israel and Judah faced other daunting obstacles. Over the years, something brewed beneath the surface of the nations. Russia supplied Egypt with weapons. Egypt's boss hated Israel. Israel lived next to Egypt. Hence, Israel and Judah became worried. Meanwhile, France was growing close to Israel as he sold her any weapons she needed. Perhaps he did so because she was attractive, perhaps he felt sympathetic, or, perhaps, he felt like being a good businessman. Whatever the case, he sold her many arms over the years. After some time of watching Egypt gain weapons from Russia, Israel and Judah felt that if they didn't attack first, and attack soon, Egypt  _would_  attack and overrun them. Since France was being kind to them, they informed him of their views.

In 1956, Egypt nationalized the Suez Canal and closed it to all Israeli shipping. Immediately, tensions sparked. Besides halting Israel's shipping, the nationalization of the Suez Canal threatened England's access to India (and whatever else was left of his waning empire), as well as jeopardized France's access to his North African colonies. It was clear that conflict could be on the horizon. England and America attempted to dissuade Israel and Egypt from any fight, but Egypt's boss was obviously against Israel, and extremely secretive. Briefly put, no attempts at peace worked. Israel and Judah approached France for help in the upcoming struggles. France gladly consented. Their battle plans began. War kindled. Seeing that disaster may strike at any moment, America attempted to make peace between the nations (I suppose he wanted to be the hero and stop the fighting before it started).

France and England feigned agreement with America's suggestions to buy time as they prepared. Eventually, war erupted. Israel and Judah attacked first, then France and England followed suit. (Seriously—France and England actually worked together, probably because they both desperately needed the canal fully opened, and they both appreciated Israel.) The war raged on as the two sides struggled for the canal. At length, Israel and her allies gained not only the canal, but also the Sinai Peninsula. Once they reached Egypt, France and England forced him to re-open the canal. They accomplished their mission. After Egypt's defeat, the United Nations set up peacekeeping troops in the Sinai Peninsula to ensure that another war would not start. After defeating Egypt, Israel faced other daunting challenges.

In 1967, another war began. In May, Egypt's boss insisted that the UN remove his peacekeeping troops from the Sinai. When the Sinai was cleared, Egypt's army moved into the area. Realizing that attack was eminent, Israel and Judah bombed Egypt's airfields, destroying nearly all of the planes. This gave Israel and Judah an edge in the skies as the war sparked. Soon, Jordan and Syria joined in the fight against Israel. Quickly, Egypt retreated, and Israel followed, pushing him back through the Sinai Peninsula. Meanwhile, Judah attacked Syria and Jordan, taking the Golan Heights, the Gaza Strip, and the West bank in the process—including East Jerusalem. On the day the Jewish soldiers captured East Jerusalem, they cried. They physically wept.

Their holy site, the Temple Mount and the Wailing Wall, was returned to them. To these men, it was a moment they would never forget as long as they lived. (The Temple Mount is where the Jewish temple once stood, where devout Jews would go to worship in various ways. The Wailing Wall is all they have left of the outer part of the last temple. These areas are EXTREMELY important in Judaism, to say the least.) Within one week of battles, a ceasefire was signed. The State of Israel was victorious. Indeed, it was an  _unbelievable_  victory. Forever it would be known as the Six-day War.

When the Six-day War ended, Israel and Judah rejoiced greatly, and enjoyed their new status. Before the war, Israel and Judah were in another economic crisis. After the war, they achieved health once again. Before the war, the eastern half of Jerusalem was Jordanian turf. After the war, all of Jerusalem was in Israeli hands, including the Wailing Wall—one of the most important, most sacred sites in Judaism.

For the first time in years, Israel and Judah could pray there. That  _alone_  was something to celebrate. Nevertheless, there was at least one other thing Israel and Judah were pleased over. Before the war, many other nations didn't notice them, or paid little attention to them. (Now they truly knew how Canada felt.) After the war, the world gazed at them in deep interest. How could a tiny nation defeat  _three_  enemy forces and conquer  _more_  territory in _less than one week_? It seemed…miraculous…insane…illogical…indescribable. Overall, Israel and Judah proved once again that they would not be destroyed, and that their God was good. Unfortunately, not all the consequences of the war's end were worth rejoicing over.

America's boss…or someone in the American Government…decided that it would be a good idea to set up a trade embargo on arms over the Middle East. Although Israel, Judah, and America tried to stop it, the embargo held through the end of the year. Indeed, America was forced to be against his best friend.

Furthermore, the Israeli government felt that it would be best to return the Golan Heights to Syria and the Sinai Peninsula to Egypt for peace. Neither Israel nor Judah liked that idea. Of course, they were the ones who received the task of informing America, so he could inform the Arabs. (Perhaps the  _Knesset_  thought that the Arabs would listen to America more than Israel, considering they recently experienced a humiliating defeat from Israel and Judah.) When America heard Israel's news, he was astonished. Interestingly enough, he somehow…forgot that he was supposed to inform the Arabs of the Israeli government's decision. Maybe he was too busy, maybe he "forgot" on purpose, either way, he forgot.

Hence, the Arabs never got wind of any plan to receive the Sinai or the Golan Heights. However, the Arab leaders did congregate together and issued what would be known as "the Three 'No's' of Khartoum"—no recognition of, no negotiations, and especially  _no peace_  with Israel. Simply put, it was "No, no, NO," and other points. (Did I mention that there were 'No's' involved?) Obviously, Israel and Judah still had hard times ahead. (By the way, a few weeks after the Three 'No's', the Israeli government withdrew the offer of giving back the Golan Heights and the Sinai. Since the Arabs never heard, they never received. For Israel and Judah, it was wonderful. Although they wondered why America never delivered the message, they were relieved that they could keep their land.)

When they were not busy guarding their borders or warring, Israel and Judah were highly busy in other tasks. For one thing, they developed a new system for drip irrigation, or at least a new part for it. (Drip irrigation is a system used to water plants when water is scarce by running the available water through tiny tubes and allowing it to gently, directly drip onto the roots of the plants. Judah designed a special tip for drip irrigation that improved the system.) Because they installed an efficient water distribution system involving drip irrigation, they were able to turn part of their land from a desert to farming land. Interestingly, as Israel's land moistened, her hair and skin also moistened, turning back to their original softness.

For the first time in centuries, she was proud of her hair. That may not sound like much to those of you who never consider their hair, but to a young lady who had been ashamed and disheartened by her own hair for so long that it was wonderful to finally smile at it. Eventually, while Israel's hair softened and grew, their farmland became more and more productive until she began exporting various fruits and flowers. Israel organized and oversaw the plant exports while her brother worked on other tasks from cutting diamonds to sharpening knives. Together they trained for battle, improved their house, prayed, and developed weapons. Overall, whether it was with wars or doing dishes, the two siblings were always busy.

As the years passed, other changes took place in Israel. For ages, men hurt her in numerous ways, causing her to fear them. Suddenly, she was free. Over time, she changed because of this freedom. Instead of fearing men and barely looking at them, she learned how to look them in the eye and boldly speak to them. After the wars she faced, she learned how to face danger instead of cringe away from it. The wounds on her heart didn't scream so loudly anymore. She heard a deeper, stronger voice, telling her that God was always with her, would never leave her, and never forsake her.

Finally, she learned how to listen to and obey that voice. It shifted her life. While her heart healed more on the inside, something happened on the outside: amazingly, her wide, hideous scars narrowed until they were thin lines instead of large markings. The ones on her back were still large, but shallower than they once were. (Judah's scars also shrank dramatically) Although Israel's scars were diminished, she still couldn't fathom any beauty in herself. Indeed, she was a beautiful woman, but she refused to believe that she was more than pretty.

Another change that occurred was in the way she dressed. When she was a child, it was the custom for  _unmarried_  girls to wear a  _white_  head covering while  _married_  women wore  _colored_  ones. Because of this, Israel usually wore a white scarf on her head, tying it around her hair and under her neck…until she found out that the custom changed. Apparently, in recent times, the  _married_  Orthodox Jewish women wore head coverings. There were other ladies who wore headscarves, but in general, the  _married Orthodox_  Jewish women covered their hair. Israel discovered this when she was talking to a young lady in a marketplace. After some time, the lady, who was married, asked Israel what her husband did for a living. Of course, Israel kindly informed the woman that she had no husband. Shortly thereafter, Israel learned that the way she dressed suggested that she was a married Orthodox Jew.

Although she was Jewish, and somewhat orthodox, she was definitely  _not_  anywhere near married and never intended to look married unless she actually  _was_  married. Hence, she stopped covering her hair unless she was at home, working in her garden, attempting to keep her hair out of her eyes. It may sound strange, but when Israel uncovered her hair, for the first few weeks she felt...bare. Furthermore, she remembered the ancient custom of uncovering a woman's head after she was caught in adultery, and she remembered the way Rome uncovered her hair when he dragged her through the streets shortly after murdering her parents. Considering this, she wondered if she really should take off her headscarf.

However, as far as she knew, there wasn't a command in the  _Torah_  to wear a head covering, so she calmed down…eventually. Although she didn't fully cover her head as she used to do, she still enjoyed putting flowers, headbands or ribbons in her hair at times. The point is this: things were changing for Israel, not only in her house, but also in her heart and mind through the years…and there were more changes to come. Although she had suffered much pain in her life, there was beauty to be seen in her, and someone would see it in her. The question was, would she accept him?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Reader,
> 
> Thank-you, again, for reading this far!
> 
> Although I am not a historian, I am certain that the facts in this part of the story are correct.
> 
> I have done serious research for this chapter, however, I don't know everything!
> 
> Also, there are other facts I didn't mention in this chapter that I may mention later on.
> 
> After all, one can handle only so much information in a chapter.
> 
> Also, the hair covering facts are true, as far as I know.
> 
> Before I let you read the next chapter, I would like to inform you that although I strive to have proper grammar, I am not flawless, so please pardon any errors you may find.
> 
> Remember, this is my first fan fiction!
> 
> Please, be kind, and please review without spoiling the plot!
> 
> Thank-you for reading this far, and please continue!
> 
> PioneeringAuthor ~+~


	9. Chapter 8: Never Forgotten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Reader,
> 
> This chapter is true.
> 
> Most of this chapter actually happened, the main differences between this and history are the Hetalia characters and my characters.
> 
> Those who were alive in the 70's will probably remember this.
> 
> For the rest, this will be new, and probably heartbreaking.
> 
> ~+~ PioneeringAuthor

 

* * *

Chapter 8

Never Forgotten

Now you must hear of another sorrowful time in Israel's life. It happened during the summer Olympic Games in Munich, West Germany, in the year 1972.

Everything began well. Athletes won medals, crowds cheered, nations became acquainted with each other a little better, and it was an enjoyable time. Of course, not everything was roses, gold medals, and happy dances…especially between Israel and Germany—West Germany, specifically. Since World War 2 ended, Germany lived with the guilt of what he did. Actually, he didn't "live" with it, he suffered with it. His life became day-to-day struggle to move forward. His brother, East Germany (Prussia) also felt guilty and depressed, but he handled it quite differently than Germany. Whereas Germany pushed himself away from people, and found it hard to live with the weight on his heart, clearly showing his inner struggle, Prussia acted as if he was over the Holocaust and continued acting the same way as he had for decades. Outwardly, Prussia was the same egotistical troublemaker, while inwardly he was in the darkest depths of hopelessness. Neither nation was thriving. Although both had their problems mentally and emotionally, Germany seemed to be faring worse than Prussia. Whenever Israel or Judah was near, Germany felt horrible, and avoided them. Israel tried to show that she wasn't angry at him, but he didn't give her the chance. Then, that day in September came. Although the Olympics began splendidly, they would end in tragedy.

One night, Israel and Judah were heading to their dorm rooms after attending a production of  _Fiddler on the Roof_ , when America spotted them and decided to say goodnight.

"Hey, Israel! Did you enjoy your play?" America asked cheerily.

"Yes, we did—why are you up so late?" Israel replied while her brother stood beside her silently.

"Well, I was talking to Japan, and I lost track of the time—I'm glad I stayed up late enough to say one last thing to you, though!" America rattled off while placing his hands in his brown jacket casually.

"What did you want to say?" Israel enquired curiously.

"Good-night!" America announced with a grin and a twinkle in his eyes.

Israel giggled. "I should have guessed that—good-night, friend," Israel answered with an amused smile.

Judah nodded to America, indicating that Israel said what he wanted to say.

As she headed to her apartment, Israel considered how friendly America was to her over the years. Indeed, he wasn't flawless, but he was gentle to her, and he seemed to genuinely care for her. That gentleness, those warm smiles, those encouraging blue eyes, truly comforted Israel and reassured her that there were still trustworthy men in the world, beside her brother. Israel recalled a time when America generously sold her weapons in secret. Indeed, not many nations would do  _that_  for her. America certainly was a caring man to Israel, unlike most she endured in her life. While Israel dwelled on this, America was considering how lovely Israel appeared in the moonlight…oh, so lovely in the moonlight. Soon, the three reached their dorms, and went to sleep unaware of what was coming. They said 'good-bye', unaware of how serious those last words would be. Indeed, it would be a frightening, mournful event when all was complete.

_`- The next day –'_

Approximately 4:30 am, September 5, several disguised Palestinian terrorists scaled the fence guarding the Olympic village where the apartments for the athletes stood. Of course, they had help from certain athletes attempting to get back into the village. Of course, the athletes had no idea of whom they were helping. Among the terrorists was Palestine himself, who led the expedition. They were on a mission of destruction. With stolen keys, they entered the apartments of the Israeli players.  
Israel awoke at the sound of a gunshot, or was it a scream. Her heart raced. Her brother was in another room—was he the one who screamed? Meanwhile, Judah was thinking the same thing as he sat up in his bed. Did someone scream, or was it a dream? Was there a gunshot, or was it a midnight delusion? Indeed, No—it was real. Palestine and his men broke into an apartment holding the Israeli officials and coaches. One man managed to escape through a window while two others attempted to hold off the intruders. During the struggle, one man was shot—not killed, but injured—and he was forced to help the terrorists find other hostages. His name was Moshe Weinberg. As they walked down the hall, Judah was upright in bed, his heart racing. One of his roommates had leaped out the window to warn someone of the attack. Judah and the others hid in their rooms and listened as footsteps neared their door. The injured hostage led the terrorists past Judah's room, claiming the people in there weren't Israeli. Instead, the hostage led the attackers to a room holding several wrestlers and weightlifters. Since they were surprised in their sleep, they were unable to defend themselves, although their strength might have saved them.  
When silence descended, Judah and his roommates cautiously opened the door to their apartment. Seeing no one, they quickly headed for the exit. While he headed through the building, Judah desperately hoped that his sister already escaped. Unfortunately, she remained inside, paralyzed with fear. When Judah was safely outside, he searched for his sister nearby to no avail. Instantly realizing that Israel was still in the apartment building with the terrorists, Judah turned to run back into the building. However, his roommates held him back, knowing where he was attempting to go.

"Let go of me!" Judah protested as they dragged him away from the three-story building.

"No—are you insane? We are not letting go of you so you can get yourself killed!" One of the three men grabbing Judah denied his request in a whisper while gripping Judah's right arm firmly.

"My sister—she is still in there!" Judah breathed in panic, struggling to break loose.

"Listen, Naftali—maybe she escaped earlier and is hiding somewhere nearby, or maybe the intruders don't know she is inside—either way, if you go in and get yourself shot, you won't be able to help her, will you?" Another man pointed out, this one gripping Judah's torso as he addressed him by his human name, Naftali. They didn't know that he was a nation, they only knew he was a man caring for his sister. Realizing that the athletes were right, Judah stopped squirming, and allowed them to lead him away from the apartment. Judah's heart continued to gallop.

Indeed, Judah was right—Israel was still in the building, in a room with two other women athletes. In the same building, Palestine searched for her while his comrades tied up the hostages in one of the rooms. As Palestine silently hunted for Israel, there was a struggle with the hostages. Weinberg fought and died against the intruders; however, he did wound one of the terrorists and knocked out another in his struggle. Thankfully, during the short fight, one hostage managed to escape. Nevertheless, the other hostages were still defeated and bound.

Meanwhile, Palestine searched through several apartments to find Israel—instead, he found the woman personifying Uruguay, and the man personifying Hong Kong. Releasing them and their athletes, Palestine grew furious—he knew Israel was there somewhere, but where? Eventually, he found her. Dragging Israel out of her room, he released the other female athletes, since they were Uruguayan. Israel felt her blood freeze in terror—the man that utterly despised her was holding her arm, dragging her away, and there was nothing she could do about it, nothing at all. He led her to a separate room, determined to torment her alone.  
Later in the day, when the world awakened, Palestine and his men dictated their ransom price: the release of 234 Palestinians and certain non-Arabs from Israeli jails and the release of two German terrorists. To show their seriousness, the attackers threw Weinberg's body out the door. On that day, a handful of men scaled a fence, broke into an apartment, and captured adult athletes within a short period of time, with hardly any opposition.

Israel's Prime Minister, Golda Meir, begged the other countries to rescue her citizens and punish the horrible acts being committed. She also believed that if her people gave in to the terrorists, no Israeli citizen would believe he was safe, as if they received the world's worst blackmail. Overall, she refused to negotiate. (Because it was believed that negotiations would spark future attacks, this was Israel's official policy at the time—to not negotiate with terrorists.) U.S. President Richard Nixon considered various responses to the situation. Eventually, Nixon decided to pressure the UN to act against international terrorism such as this. As for the Middle East, only Jordan's king stood against the attack, believing it to be savage. So far, the hostages weren't anywhere near being rescued.

During this crisis, Germany found himself in an awkward position—to say the least—because the hostages were Jewish. He hosted the Olympics that year hoping to wipe away the image Hitler left when  _he_  hosted the Olympics. Now that Jewish hostages were taken in his house, Germany felt that his bloodstained past was standing before him again. Instantly, all of his guilt haunted him, condemning him, crushing him, and assuring him that he would witness the death of the hostages, including Israel. No—he couldn't let that happen. He must not let that happen. Sadly, it  _was_  happening. As he desperately searched all his options for rescuing the hostages, Germany cursed himself for not preparing more…and then remembered his scenarios.

Before the Olympics, Germany calculated 26 dangerous situations that could possibly occur during the games. He was determined to prepare for anything. (Guess what situation 21 was?) According to situation 21, several terrorists would break into the apartments housing the Israeli athletes, kidnap them, demand a ransom, board a plane and leave. For some reason, Germany ignored that  _one_  particular situation, feeling it wouldn't happen and he was being paranoid. Of course, THAT ONE ensued. For Germany, it was a nightmare—the  _one thing_  he hoped would never happen, the  _one thing_  he believed wouldn't happen was unfolding before him and he was unprepared. Once the games started in the day, people kept begging Germany for answers—what would he do? Was Israel still alive? How many kidnappers were there—questions, questions, questions! Since he didn't have any information for them, and considering that he didn't want complete chaos, Germany told everyone to calm down, continue the games, and allow him to deal with the hostage crisis without getting in his way.

However, there was one person Germany was willing to talk to: Judah. Germany reassured Judah that he would rescue Israel somehow. Although Germany seemed confident on the outside, he was panicking on the inside. Judah sensed this, and attempted to space himself from Germany, believing it would help him think. While others continued their competitions, Judah constantly prayed for his sister, fasted, and did everything possible to retain his sanity. Usually, Judah protected his sister, comforted her, and watched over her. As the man of the house, he felt compelled to do all that and more for his only sister, even though he was younger than she was. It was his father's last wish, and his duty as her closest relative. Century after century, Judah was able to fulfill his duty to his sister. Suddenly, he found himself separated from her, and she was in horrid danger. He felt he failed her, and his father. Furthermore, he was terrified that he would lose her as he lost his parents.

If Israel died, he would surely blame himself for the rest of his life, and be deeply lonely for years. He needed her to live, and to come home to him. He needed her to survive, to embrace him, to tell him it would be fine, to make him lunch when they got home, to be in the same house with him—Judah needed his sister! Inwardly, he wanted to charge into the building where she was captive and free her himself, but he couldn't. He felt useless, desperate, shocked, condemned, terrified, yet still hopeful. Of course, there were many others desperate for Israel to live, including India and America, but Judah and Germany felt that they were holding the most guilt and pressure. Judah was the only person Germany didn't shoo away and order to act calm, because Germany understood that Judah needed feedback, even if it was vague, and Judah was the only man who understood that Germany felt the same way he felt.

As the world waited for and planned her rescue, Israel silently prayed that she would survive. Her captor taunted her, insulted her, and hurt her countless times. Germany tried negotiating with Palestine—including offering some of his high-ranking officials to replace the hostages, and any amount of money as payment—but Palestine wouldn't budge. He didn't care about his life, he didn't care about money; all he cared about was finishing his mission. Egypt tried speaking to Palestine, hoping that he would listen to a fellow Arab, but Palestine refused. Germany quickly started exploring all possible ways of rescuing the hostages.  
Meanwhile, Palestine continued to abuse Israel. Bound and gagged, Israel felt her heart race, and prayed silently that God would protect her. Suddenly, something within Israel told her she would survive, and a gentle peace touched her for a few moments. As peace fell on Israel, Palestine had the urge to un-gag Israel to hear what she would say to him.

"Tell me, Israel, where are your friends now? Who will free you from my grasp? What do you have to say for yourself?" Palestine taunted her as he untied the cloth covering her mouth.

Realizing she had a chance to utter something, Israel looked into Palestine's dark eyes, and prayed for wisdom. This was the one time Israel had to reach out to him and turn him around from his terrorist ideals, if she could merely find the right words. Would she be able to change him? What would she say? Would he listen at all to her?

Abruptly, Israel declared, "Palestine, you can tear me limb from limb, shave my head, scar my body, perhaps even kill me—but if I do die, I know exactly where I will be on the other side. Do you know where  _you_  will be if  _you_  die?"

For a moment, Palestine's gaze softened with a twinge of fear and conviction. Truthfully, he did not know. Israel knew her sins were forgiven because her Messiah paid the price for them, and she accepted his gift of salvation, and chose to follow God. However, Palestine had no way of knowing if he was forgiven. He didn't believe that there was someone who took the pain and guilt for him—he believed that everything he did, wrong or right, was written down, and he couldn't erase it. For Palestine, there was no assurance of salvation—no way to know if he would be in a better place if he died…unless he died in battle or as a martyr. According to his beliefs, he would go straight to Paradise if he died fighting—but was it true? Staring at Israel, seeing the bold confidence in her eyes, Palestine faltered for a moment in his paradigm. Deep within, something whispered that she was right—that he didn't have a definite way of knowing where he would be if he died. That one thought numbed him with fear.

As Palestine considered what Israel said, she continued speaking to him with, "Palestine, you have a great destiny—I'm sure of it—and it's not this. You don't have to kidnap me or kill me to get anywhere—there is a God out there who cares for you, and he has a better plan in mind for you!"

As Israel uttered those words, Palestine took a step back, feeling something stir within him. He felt something…drawing him. He didn't comprehend it. Rapidly, Rage rose within him.

Slapping Israel with the back of his hand, Palestine shouted, "Silence! I don't want to hear about  _your_  perverted beliefs! UNDERSTAND? YOU ARE THE ONE MISLEAD! BE SILENT!"

Quickly, Palestine gagged her again, determined to slay her as soon as possible. Israel's heart fell in her chest. She hoped she somehow touched him, but was unsure. While Palestine stalked around her, she realized that she never directly said that Palestine was mislead…not that time. Perhaps she touched him more than she realized. Regardless, she was still captive, she still needed to be rescued, and the world still waited.

Within twelve hours of the first hostage death, the games were suspended. Now the world truly was watching in anticipation. Germany attempted to rescue Israel, and failed miserably—thanks to the news camera broadcasting his movements so the terrorists could watch it live. Of course, that wasn't anyone's intention, but that is what occurred. Eventually, Palestine demanded to be allowed to leave on a plane, with his hostages, as situation 21 predicted. Germany cursed himself all the more for not preparing more beforehand. He wished he could bring in the military, but former agreements prevented him. He wished he had protected the athletes more, but it was too late for good intentions. He wished he could turn back the hands of time, but wishful thinking wouldn't bring back the dead man.

Suddenly, an idea struck him: go along with the terrorists and ambush them on their way to the plane. Of course, that failed as well because someone made a faint noise while some of Palestine's men were scouting out the area. Once they heard someone there, they retreated and reported to Palestine. Hearing the news, Palestine demanded helicopters to take him to the airplane. Germany felt his fear peaking as he saw his options narrowing. His authorities created a plan to snipe the attackers before they headed onto the plane, and to plant their forces in the plane to stop the intruders in case they reached the plane. Germany's hope rose, only to fall when he heard the men picked for the sniper positions. The men chosen never considered themselves snipers. They knew how to use a firearm—but sniping was a thousand times more complex than firing a weapon. Furthermore, there weren't enough men selected to be snipers. Although no one knew the exact number of kidnappers, it was guessed to be a handful—maybe five. Nevertheless, the rule of thumb for sniping is to deploy at least two snipers for every target. In this plan, there was about one for every assumed target. As a highly trained soldier, Germany quickly determined this plan was going to fail, but as a highly obedient soldier, he listened to his superiors and inwardly made his own back-up plan.

When he arrived at the airport as one of the snipers, Germany tried to keep as calm as possible and wait.  
The entire world waited and watched.  
In the dark of night, the hostages and their captors arrived in two helicopters. Germany felt his heart jump as he realized that there were more attackers than assumed. There were supposed to be five, but there were at least eight. Apprehensively, Germany watched as two of them approached the plane to inspect it. Suddenly, the men turned and ran, and shouted something to the others. Watching what was unfolding, Germany realized that his men were not in the plane. Germany felt his blood run cold. Instantly, he knew it was over. For some reason, the police officers disguised as the flight crew for the plane had voted to leave the plane. Because the plane was empty, the terrorists recognized that something was wrong. When they saw danger, they turned to rush back to the helicopters.  
One of the "snipers" fired at the men, and missed. Knowing every shot counted, Germany cursed under his breath and watched as one of the kidnappers shot out some of the lights at the airport, sending most of the area into blackness. Shots fired left and right.

Meanwhile, Israel was in the far copter, bound tightly. Palestine witnessed what unfolded, and recognized his coming failure. In anger, he grabbed Israel, dragged her from the helicopter, and ordered one of his men to shoot the remaining hostages. As Palestine forced her to run with him, Israel heard a machine gun blaze behind her. Again, her heart shattered. She recently met those men, and became acquainted with them. They had friends, family, lives—and now they were gone from the earth. Would she be next?

From the roof of the airport Germany watched in horror as the other helicopter burst into flames after a grenade was thrown into it. Panicking, Germany cast about, looking for any sign of Israel. Quickly, he spotted something moving through the darkness, and he knew it was her—hope told him it was. He darted down ladders and stairs as fast as possible, determined to catch whoever was leaving.

Meanwhile, Judah continued to pray fervently. By this time, others had joined him, not knowing what else to do. Among them were India, Switzerland, England, and, surprisingly, France. Fear and desperation brought them together. They all knew Israel, and none of them wanted to see her laid in a grave. Several knew her wretched past, and none wanted her life to end that way. Judah, most of all, needed her to live. He didn't know how to carry on without her at his side.

Palestine sprinted away with Israel in tow, knowing his time was short. Abruptly, he stopped, and turned to Israel. Furiously, he glared at her, and considered all the things he could do to her immediately—before he was captured.

Whipping out a knife, he cut the fabric from around her mouth and whisper-screamed, "How badly do you want to live?"

Terrified, Israel stuttered, "I-I-I—Please, don't hurt me! You don't have to kill me, please, understand—we don't have to go through this!"

"'We'—who are you referring to?" Palestine growled at her.

"Palestine, we can live in—in-peace, please, let's talk about this," Israel implored him.

"Peace—no, we can  _never_  have peace, not as long as you live on _my_  land," Palestine parried as he waved his gleaming blade close to her face. Israel's heart raced as she eyed the knife, recognizing in the faint light that it was perfectly sharp.

"Please, please, let me live—listen, this is not who you were meant to be, God created you for something greater than this—you don't have to kill me to get anywhere!" Israel declared, tears of fear and sorrow streaming down her cheeks as she attempted to reach out to him with her words.

"Stop! STOP IT RIGHT NOW! I don't need to hear about your beliefs— _you_  are wrong, not me!" Palestine commanded, planting his blade beneath Israel's chin as he spoke. Before he moved another muscle, he spat back at her with, "You keep talking about God as if he is with you, as if he knows you personally—well, where is he  _now_? Do you think he  _really_  is going to help you? WHERE IS HE—WHY DOESN'T HE HELP YOU NOW?"

Israel's heart raced as she felt the cold steel of the switchblade against her skin. His words echoed in her ears. Where was God? Would he intervene, or was this her time to leave the earth? Where was God now?

"He is everywhere, Palestine, and he  _is_  helping her," A firm voice answered from behind Israel.

When she heard those words, Israel felt a gentle peace come on her for a few moments, as something within her confirmed,  _You will live._

Looking behind Israel, Palestine espied a form in the darkness, a familiar one. Instantly, he knew who it was, and in one swift moment, he spun Israel around, wrapped his free hand around her waist, and planted his blade stiffly against her neck with the other.  
Gunshots echoed across the pavement from the fight nearby as the two nations watched each other.

"Make one move, Germany, and she's dead," Palestine threatened.

"Drop the knife or  _you_  die," Germany countered as he cocked his rifle.

He knew how to use that rifle to the best of its manufacturing, especially since  _he_  designed it. Holding the rifle in his hands, Germany knew he could kill Palestine easily, but he feared harming Israel. He was a lifelong soldier with a mission of life or death in his hands. He determined to  _not_  fail. He  _must_  rescue Israel. He  _must succeed._

"I'll slit her throat first," Palestine parried as he pulled Israel closer. Israel tried to remain still as she felt the cold metal press against her skin, but her heart was beating so fast that she feared her own pulse would cause enough movement to slice herself against the knife.

Seeing that Palestine had the upper blade, Germany took a step back. "Let her go and I won't kill you," he ordered.

"Drop your rifle before  _I_  kill  _her_ ," Palestine barked.

Although he didn't want to yield to Palestine's wishes, Germany found that he had no choice.

Hoping that his men would arrive soon, Germany obeyed, planning his next move the whole time.  
However, Palestine already had  _his_  move planned. As soon as the rifle was on the ground, Palestine slashed his blade across Israel's neck at a downward angle. Germany froze as he watched Israel fall to the ground and Palestine vanish into the darkness. Swiftly, Germany dived for Israel and picked her body off the ground. Cradling Israel in his arms, Germany breathed deeply, feeling himself shudder in fear and disbelief. Seeing her cut, he quickly searched for something sharp, and located a piece of glass from one of the light poles that had been shot. Quickly, he sliced a piece of his shirt off and bandaged her neck, ignoring the pain spiking through his hand as he cut himself on the glass. With Israel motionless, Germany desperately held her close, searching for any sign of life within her.  
Immediately, he remembered the day they met at school. He recounted the hours they spent together studying, talking and eating…it was wonderful.

He remembered how much he enjoyed her company. For a time, he had strange inner feelings for her, deep emotions he couldn't remember having before. At times, during school, he would feel lonely when not around her, and he smiled when she smiled…and mourned when she mourned. As the beautiful memories flowed into his mind, the grotesque ones came close on their heels. He remembered when Hitler controlled him, spreading his propaganda everywhere. Germany recalled how his opinion slowly changed of Israel. As a good soldier, Germany followed his leaders…even if he questioned their sanity. Unfortunately, this leader led him into doing the unthinkable: turning on Israel's people. For a time, he was blinded to what he was doing, following his orders. When he lost the war, there were no excuses for the torture and pain he caused; all the guilt he had shoved away came tumbling down upon him.

For years, he couldn't bear to look Israel in the face, because all he saw reflected in her eyes were the people he murdered, and the friendship with her that he betrayed. He felt as if blood was on his hands that could never be washed off. Willingly, he helped her when she asked, but he knew that nothing he did could  _ever make up_  for what he already did to her people, and all the others he murdered. Now, holding Israel in his hands, all his memories, guilt, shame, and sorrow drowned him emotionally. She couldn't die—not now, not after all she survived! She couldn't die, not here, not where so much of her people's blood was spilled—Germany couldn't bear any more guilt, any more shame. Indeed, Germany didn't want her to die—there was a part of him that still wanted to somehow, in some way, repair something of what their relationship once was…and now it seemed too late. In shock and suspense, Germany implored Israel to open her eyes, and gently shook her.

Hearing the battle was over, Germany called for help, trying to keep his own panic from commanding him. As he turned back to Israel, he felt everything he attempted to hold back begin to crush him. Suddenly, he couldn't bear it anymore, and in a chaos of various squelched emotions unleashing themselves, he began to sob. Gently, he lowered his head and allowed himself to cry for the first time in…he didn't know how long. One last time, he beseeched Israel to wake up, to not die, to move again. Shutting his eyes, Germany attempted to wake up from whatever nightmare he was having, but found that he was awake. Feeling his guilt and fear, Germany felt as if he couldn't breathe.

Suddenly, his mind filled with terrible words.  _See what you've done? You can't do anything right, can you? You couldn't prepare, you couldn't stop the attackers, you couldn't rescue Israel, you couldn't save her! Her blood will forever be on your hands! You will never be forgiven for what you did in the past, you will never get away from it, never. She would probably tell you that herself, if she was living. She knew what you did, Germany, she knew. She saw the blood of her people on your hands, Germany. If she was alive, she'd tell you that she hates you for what you did. You're a blood-stained wretch!_  Germany gasped for breath as tears rolled down his cheeks. For years he had nightmares about moments like this, moments where Israel dies by his hand or in his arms. He always woke up, but this time he couldn't; this time, it was real. He trembled at the realization.

Abruptly, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, and a soft voice said, "I'm glad that you still care about me."

Opening his eyes, Germany saw Israel smiling at him—she  _was_   _alive_! Wait—her neck wound—perhaps, maybe, somehow, it wasn't deep enough, or in the right spot—at any rate, she was  _alive_! Germany still had a chance to apologize, to recover something, to start over—this was  _not_  another nightmare in which he kills Israel by mistake or watches her die a torturesome death—no, she was  _alive_! Israel survived.

"Israel, you're alive!" Germany breathed, feeling his heart pick up speed.

"Yes—I suppose I just fainted from surprise…I suppose," Israel moaned, feeling the ache in her cut. She smiled at Germany, and straightened his collar with one hand as she said, "I knew that you didn't entirely hate me—I knew there was a part of you that was still my friend."

Germany looked at the ground, guilt and relief clogging his emotions simultaneously. Finally, he allowed more tears to cascade down his cheeks.  
In the distance, the sounds of vehicles and men shouting echoed over the pavement. The other men in Germany's company were cleaning the carnage, and some headed towards him. Realizing this may be his last chance to speak to her alone, Germany quickly said what he had feared to say. He pleaded for forgiveness, and admitted that everything he did to her people was wrong, that he was a horrible person and that he didn't deserve any kindness from her. He didn't expect anything positive from her. What Israel uttered next would shift his life forever.

"Germany, I forgave you a long time ago," Israel whispered.

Aghast, Germany stared at her for a few moments before stuttering, "B-but, you, you c-can't be…serious! How, how could you possibly, for-forgive me?"

Israel gazed at him with a grave, yet gentle, expression as she admitted, "It was one of the hardest things I have ever done…but I know where bitterness leads…and I didn't want that. Since God forgave me, I knew I had to forgive you as well, so I asked him to enable me to forgive you, and he did. I want you to know, Germany, that I am not angry at you anymore. I have forgiven you, and I want you to allow yourself to look at me as you used to—as a friend, and not as a feared being."

At that, Germany became speechless, and merely turned away and sobbed. Soon, some of his men came to rush Israel to the hospital. As he watched them pull her away, Germany replayed what happened over and over again, finding it impossible to fathom what he just heard. How could she forgive him? He betrayed her! He slaughtered her people! He cursed her publicly! It was inconceivable that she would even  _consider_  forgiving him. Breathing deeply in shock, Germany reviewed what Israel said to him again and again, denying that she actually said what she said…only to realize that she had truly spoken those words to him, and that she meant it. Why, how,  _how_  could she forgive him? He felt weak at the thought, and leaned against a wall of the airport building and attempted to process everything. He shook from head to toe. Suddenly, it hit him: he was _forgiven_. He was  _completely_  forgiven. He was completely, undeniably, illogically forgiven! Realizing that he was forgiven, Germany straightened up. For the first time in so, so long, Germany felt calm. Slowly, his shock turned into relief and joy.

Although Israel had been abused physically, she only suffered outer bruising—no internal injuries. Furthermore, the cut on her neck was not life threatening—it would only scar. Because he slashed Israel at a downward angle, Palestine had missed a major vein in her neck by  _two millimeters._ It was the only angle that avoided her death. Indeed, Israel was protected even in disaster. Sadly, her men were dead. Perhaps, if she were not a nation, she would have died as well. For whatever reason, her life was spared, but the new scar on her neck would always remind her of the brave athletes whose lives were stolen from them on that black night in September. Germany allowed himself to speak to her publicly the next day, as a man who wanted to re-start an old friendship—not as a guilty murderer, not as a politician, no—as a person worthy of a normal conversation. Of course, this conversation was anything but normal, considering the horrors of the last night.

Nevertheless, it was a great leap for him, personally. After the attacks, some nations left the games, unable to continue, while others stayed—the show must go on, mustn't it? That seemed to be what Israel wanted, when she told America and the others to continue the games. Of course, some couldn't go on with the show. Israel and her brother decided to go home as well, considering the funerals they needed to attend, and the rest that they both needed after a day of constant panic, stress, pain, and sleeplessness. That black day in September forever would be known as the Munich Massacre, and would never be forgotten by Israel and Judah, although the bruises faded, and the fear departed. Indeed, those athletes who died must never be forgotten.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Reader,
> 
> This passage is true.
> 
> This is not everything that occurred those dark days in September, but these are the major points.
> 
> I heard of this before, but didn't know the full details until I started doing research for this story.
> 
> As I read the intimate details of what unfolded, I felt tears sting my eyes.
> 
> I feel that I should bring honor to the hostages' deaths in this story.
> 
> Yes, there are memorials, but here, in the United States, this event seems to be mostly forgotten.
> 
> Hence, I put it in my story, because every human being is important, no matter who they are, and their deaths matter, regardless of circumstance.
> 
> These are the names of the victims of the Munich Massacre:
> 
> Moshe Weinberg, a wrestling coach
> 
> Yossef Romano, a weightlifter
> 
> Ze'ev Friedman, another weightlifter
> 
> David Berger, another weightlifter
> 
> Yakov Springer, a weightlifting judge
> 
> Eliezer Halfin, a wrestler
> 
> Yossef Gutfreund, a wrestling referee
> 
> Kehat Shorr, a shooting coach
> 
> Mark Slavin, another wrestler
> 
> Andre Spitzer, a fencing coach
> 
> Amitzur Shapira, a track coach
> 
> And Anton Fliegerbauer, a German police officer shot by one of the Palestinians.
> 
> These people may not seem important to you, because you never met them. However, ask yourself this: what if it was your wrestling coach, track coach, fencing coach, neighbor, friend, uncle, brother, or father that died that day?
> 
> Surely, you would pay better attention.
> 
> There is a certain poem that sums up what I'm trying to say here:
> 
> No man is an island,  
> Entire of itself,  
> Every man is a piece of the continent,  
> A part of the main.  
> If a clod be washed away by the sea,  
> Europe is the less.  
> As well as if a promontory were.  
> As well as if a manor of thy friend's  
> Or of thine own were:  
> Any man's death diminishes me,  
> Because I am involved in mankind,  
> And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;  
> It tolls for thee.
> 
> -John Donne, No man is an Island.
> 
> If I recall, this poem may also be known as "The Seventeenth Devotion"
> 
> Next time you witness a funeral procession drive by you, remember that poem, and be respectful.
> 
> Thank-you for reading, please forgive any errors, I hope you enjoy the next chapter!
> 
> PioneeringAuthor, the pioneer with a heart for people and a thousand stories to tell ~+~


	10. Chapter 9: A New Direction

**Chapter 9**

**A New Direction**

About a year later, Israel found herself in yet another war. On Yom Kippur, the holiest day of her year, Egypt and Syria attacked her. For some time, it seemed that they would triumph. Soon, however, the tables turned and Israel and Judah pushed the enemy forces back until it seemed that they would completely destroy their attackers. During the war, Russia chose to support and supply Syria while America chose to support and supply Israel. Indeed, America sent, literally, tons of supplies to her, including war planes. Of course, the UN simply  _had to meddle_  in their affairs, and forced everyone to sign a peace treaty. The war halted. Israel and Judah were relieved the most when it was over, because they didn't want to eradicate anyone—they merely wanted peace. They both sighed in relief when the fighting was over, but they also knew that there would be other wars around the corner if they didn't destroy their enemies…Oh, the trials of thinking ahead for one's people…. If Israel and Judah were average humans, they would live out their lives, serve their time in the military, and rejoice during peace. Although they did this, they as nations knew that peace couldn't be forcefully won. Paper didn't last forever. Thankfully, however, it did end the fighting and held back the killing for another day. Israel and Judah were glad for that. On the other hand, someone would have to die eventually; why not get it over with now? Oh…the pain of being a nation…. Israel and Judah hated killing other people, and couldn't stand fighting their distant relatives, but it seemed that they had no choice. Once again, war struck them, and they won an uneasy peace.

After some time, Israel and Judah managed to relax, and settled into their daily routine, which now included extra border patrols.  
Then came the day Israel would face something that she didn't realize she needed to face.

One day, while Judah was running errands, America came to visit Israel. She opened the gate for him and led him to the backyard to show him the flowers she was planning on exporting. Eventually, they started talking about things other than business…and it started with a scarf.

"Israel, I just realized that you're wearing a scarf on your head—how come?" America interjected into their conversation.

Staring at America with a puzzled expression, Israel replied, "You just now realized that I'm wearing a scarf?"

"Yes," America answered with a nod.

Raising one eyebrow, Israel enquired, "I've been speaking to you for fourty-five minutes and you just _now_  realized that I'm wearing something on my head?"

"Yes…is that strange?" America asked slowly, replaying what just occurred in his mind.

Finally, Israel started laughing, and answered with, "Yes—that's very strange, America!"

"You're right—it is, isn't it?" America agreed, looking away, the realization of how weird he was suddenly dawning on him. After a few moments, he turned back to Israel, and smiled. He was glad that she was laughing—even if she was laughing at  _him_.

When Israel calmed down, America asked, "Seriously—Why are you wearing it? I thought you stopped that ages ago!"

Catching her breath one last time, Israel calmly replied with, "Well, honestly—I merely wanted to keep my bangs back…although…well…"

"Well, what?" America probed.

"Well, sometimes I think that, when I get married, if I ever do, I'll just start covering my hair all the time like the Orthodox women—like I used to do," Israel finished as she pulled some weeds from her huge garden.

"Well,  _why_  do they do that?" America asked as he knelt down to help her weed.

"Oh—that's right, you're not Jewish—I keep forgetting you don't understand things like that," Israel reminded herself as she threw away a weed and smoothed dirt into the hole it left.

As Israel spoke, she faltered, unsure of how to explain this one concept.

"In Orthodox Judaism, it is the custom for married women to cover their hair because it is considered…uhm…well…Hair is… It is believed that it is more modest to cover the hair. They believe that a women's hair should be covered so only her husband can…uhm…err…enjoy it." Israel felt as if she gave the worst explanation in the world, but she felt awkward talking about it.

Thankfully, for once, America understood; for once, he was not an idiot.

"Oh, okay—I see! Ladies' hair is considered too far out to be shown off to outsiders, right?" America exclaimed, everything abruptly clicking into place in his brain…which was strange because some wondered if he even had a brain. (All right, I'll try not to pick on him! I was merely joking—you don't have to get so upset!  _Oy_!)

"Uhm…basically, yes," Israel acknowledged, accepting that he got the gist and that she didn't have to give him the long, explanatory  _drash_  on the subject.

Then, it happened.

"Well, I must say, that's a pretty groovy idea!" America added as he tossed away a weed.

"Really?" Israel asked as she looked up at him, pausing in her weekly weed extermination workout.

"Yeah! I'm sure any guy would be glad to have your hair all to himself—after all, you are really pretty," America added, trying to avoid as much slang as possible to get his point across.

As she listened to those words, Israel cringed as if nails were being dragged across a chalkboard in her mind. She tensed. The wounds on her heart awakened at the sound of any complement being given to their scarred master.

Attempting to change the subject, Israel looked away and shrugged, "Well, I'm not that pretty—don't forget the weeds behind you!"

"Israel, you  _are_  pretty! You're the grooviest—I mean, the most fascinatin', beautiful woman I have ever met," America corrected her, staring at her in confusion, hardly able to believe she would say such a thing about herself.

Israel's heart pounded. She felt herself breathe harder as she listened. The wounds in her heart began to whisper again. She began to get frustrated—why would anyone call her beautiful when she was clearly scarred? She felt confused. Quickly, her confusion turned to tension, and that boiled into irritation.

"America, listen, I know you are my friend—but you don't have to make up things like that, okay? I'm not pretty and that's it, all right?" Israel stated sternly, plucking weeds faster.

She began to move away from him, inspecting some nearby tulips for any harmful insects.

"But I didn't make it up!" America protested. For years he had been afraid to confess his thoughts to her, but after the Munich Massacre, he felt he needed to let her know now, while they were together and alone. He needed to let her know before something happened to her.

Swiftly, he declared, "Israel, you are the most beautiful woman in the world."

With those words, America ignited the last spark needed to set off Israel's building tension. For centuries, while she was enslaved, Israel heard that she was an ugly, worthless, useless, low-life. Because of her past, it was hard for her to hear anything else. Although her Scriptures and her God said that she had a purpose, that she was wonderful, that she was lovely, it was hard for her to fathom it. Her past refused to reconcile with her beliefs. She had overcome much since she became independent—but that  _one_  detail, the question of her beauty, the  _one_  thing she thought didn't really matter, was never fully dealt with in her life. At last, her cage was torn apart, and her inner feelings that she had locked away came roaring out, controlled by the emotional scars on her heart. In fury, she spun around to America, stood up straight, glared down at him and screamed,

"WOULD YOU STOP IT?"

America fell backwards in surprise, nearly crushing some of Israel's roses. Israel breathed deeply as she continued in a growl, "I—am—not—beautiful—un—der—stand? Leave…me…ALONE!"

Jumping to his feet, America blurted out in defense, "Israel, I can't leave you alone—I love you!"

Israel stared at him in shock, her eyes wide as a full moon. She gasped for breath. The two stood there in silence for several moments.  
That was the  _other_  tiny detail Israel ignored: whether a man would fall in love with her.  
She knew God loved her, and her brother loved her—as for any other man, Israel always assumed none would want her. She was scarred from head to foot, and that's all she saw in herself as far as loveliness. She didn't see what America saw in her: her love of nature, her broad smile, her rolling laughter, the interests she shared with America, her devotion to her beliefs, her sparkling ice-blue eyes, her shimmering black hair—endless list of reasons America had to love her. Tragically, she didn't see that, and her emotional wounds refused to let her consider that. For countless years her masters insulted her, calling her unlovable and hideous. In fact, she was so used to being called ugly and distasteful that any thought of  _anyone_  loving her outside of God and her family felt like a grave insult to her. Now, she was faced with the question head-on: was she lovable? The thought of being lovely went against everything her past said, everything her scars told her, everything she was indoctrinated to believe about herself. Standing there, before America, Israel began to shake in disbelief and panic as she repeated his words to herself. In her lifetime, there were some people that she allowed herself to get close to- humans mainly-but those people all died, or turned against her. Part of her said that if America was truly in love with her, that he would either die or turn against her, like all the others—including Syria.  
Indeed, Syria used to look up to Israel and Judah, and used to be a tender friend to them, always smiling and talking to them, but something happened and now he hated them more than anything else. Would America be the same?

While Israel's thoughts fluttered in her mind, America gently stepped close to her and repeated, "I love you."

He had wanted to say those three words for a long time, and he wanted to make sure that she heard every one of them. Little did he know how those words scared her. She began to step away from him.

"No—no—no, you don't love me! You don't!" Israel protested, unable to fathom any man loving her.

"But, Israel, I  _do_  love you! I love you more than any other girl I know!" America insisted, becoming more confident as he spoke.  
Although he had the best intentions, his words hit the wrong spots on Israel's heart. Finally, the rest of the dam broke, and Israel's scars roared once more.

"NO! NOBODY LOVES ME! NOBODY CAN LOVE ME!" Israel cried, the emotional scars on her heart dictating her words.

With that, she spun around and dashed away. She didn't want to hear anything else from him—she was scared, angry and shocked at herself and at him. Part of her couldn't believe that she spoke so harshly to her best male friend, and the other part couldn't believe that what happened actually happened. Somewhere in-between these two thoughts, she was terrified of his words—she believed that no man could love her, and if any did, they would probably turn against her or die. Either way, she deemed herself unlovable. Soon, she reached her house, and tore open the door. Running up the short staircase leading to the dining room, Israel dashed past her brother who had recently arrived home.

Without slowing down, she called over her shoulder to her brother in Hebrew, "Don't let America in!"

Confused at Israel's words and her abrupt entrance, Judah watched Israel run across the dining room and burst through the swinging doors. Judah assumed she went to her bedroom. However, his main concern was not where she was, but why on earth she dashed away so rudely—she didn't greet him, or give him a hug for coming home!  
That, most assuredly, was NOT like her usual self. Furthermore, why would she even consider saying "Don't let America in"?  
Perplexed beyond words, Judah plodded down the stairs, and waited beside the open back door.

Soon, Judah pinpointed America sprinting towards him. When America was close enough, Judah could see his own confusion reflected in America's face. Panting, America bolted to the door, and asked if he could see Israel. Judah studied America for a few moments, contemplating what to do. Eventually, he stepped aside and allowed America to enter, despite Israel's wish.  
Gently closing the door, Judah eyed America with a look that said, "Well—what happened?"  
Understanding Judah's look, America turned to him and explained, "I don't know what happened—honest! All I did was complement her, and next thing I know, she yells at me and runs away like I'm the worst cat in the universe! I…I really don't know what happened—I didn't hurt her, you have to believe me!"

Slowly, Judah nodded, remembering times when his sister refused complements from himself. Judah indicated a chair nearby, and America sat down obediently.

As Judah sat across from him, America continued with, "Judah, I honestly don't know what I said to upset her…I'm sorry—I really am. Can I talk to her, or is she too upset to speak to me?"

Judah leaned back in his chair, unsure of what to say, or think. He contemplated the situation in silence for a few minutes. He began to wonder what America's agenda was. Obviously, America had romantic feelings for Israel, but what did he want? Would he marry her, or did he want a less responsible relationship?

At length, Judah leaned forward, locked eyes with America, and bluntly asked, "What do you want with my sister?"

After he spoke those words, Judah realized how rude they sounded. Oh, well—it was too late now. He didn't intend to sound angry or suspicious, it just slipped out like that.  
Thankfully, America was too upset to get any more upset than he already was, and considered the question in his mind without considering why it was phrased the way it was. Silently, America pondered what he wanted to do with Israel. Yes, they were friends, and yes, he wanted to make everything right with her—but what did he  _really_  want with her?  
Suddenly, he remembered the day they met. When he first shook Israel's hand, America had a premonition that he would marry her one day. For decades, he shoved it aside, ignoring it…but now he remembered it clearly. The more he recalled it, the more he realized that what he wanted was exactly that: to marry Israel. He loved her more than any other woman in his life. As he thought about Israel, he realized that, perhaps, he had always loved her—it just took him a long time to recognize it.

Slowly focusing on Judah again, America answered, "I want to marry Israel."

His eyes displayed all the words he didn't say—how much he longed for her when they were apart, how much he dreamed of her at night, how much he adored her in the day, how much he was willing to give up for her. Judah read all of those words in America's eyes. Leaning back in his wooden chair, Judah began his inner debate and prayer.

 _Well, Lord, he wants to marry my sister. I knew he loved her the moment he laid eyes on her—it's about time he recognized it himself._  
Well, he is a bit conceited, but he has learned much over the years, and now understands that he is not better than everyone…he now knows his flaws, and is willing to overcome them. If he did marry my sister, I'm sure that he would protect her with his life, but he will have many leaders in the future, and some may despise us. America may be forced to choose sides. He may break my sister's heart without intending to do so.  
Then again, he will always love her, no matter what.  
However, his culture is different from ours…true, he has learned much about us, and is slowly following our beliefs, but he is still different…I fear this may lead to inter-cultural misunderstandings…  
Then again, he shares our basic beliefs—he is a part of us spiritually. The rest will work out, with your help, Dear God, it will.  
Unfortunately, if she marries him, all our Orthodox friends are going to be quite upset, to say the least. I'm sure that they will argue with her for some time for marrying a Gentile and will possibly use this as the last excuse to ostracize her from their lives. Oh, it took us so long to get their attention, to earn their trust and their friendship that neither of us want that effort to be thrown away…. We want to reach out to them, not offend them...Then again, we cannot please everyone.  
Overall, I'm certain that America will be a faithful husband to Israel, although his leaders might disagree, although our human friends may object. I see America as someone who will do his best to make Israel happy, to protect her, and to love her. That's what she needs—someone to show her that she can be loved, that she is worthy of affection….Well, God, what do you think?

After several minutes of debate such as this, Judah felt a deep, faint feeling—not exactly a thought, but an unction quietly within himself. He felt calm. At once, he knew the answer. Looking at America, he proclaimed,

"I am convinced that you are meant to marry my sister, but she is convinced that she is un-marriable. You need to show her how much you love her."

Once he finished speaking, he stood up and left the room, leaving America alone with Israel and Judah's dogs. The two Canaan dogs stared at America, wondering what was happening. Although they couldn't understand every word spoken, they understood that something was amiss. Israel's dog, a creamy-white female Canaan dog, stepped over to America and laid her head on his lap. She whimpered quietly. America reassuringly stroked her soft head. Inwardly, he wondered if Israel herself would ever be this close to him, if she would ever come to him for comfort...if she would ever marry him.

Meanwhile, Judah was in Israel's bedroom. She was utterly weeping, her face buried in a pillow. Judah pondered what disturbed her so deeply. Gently, he walked over to her, and laid a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him with tear-stained cheeks.

"What's wrong?" Judah asked her in Hebrew.

"He loves me," She replied in Hebrew.

"And?" Judah probed deeper.

Israel looked away, unsure of what to say. Inwardly, she was terrified, but she didn't know why. She thought about it deeper, and realized that she was afraid that America would turn on her, and she would lose him forever. He may love her today, but he may turn on her tomorrow, if he found out what she truly looked like. She believed that any man would abhor her if he saw her scars.  
Indeed, she felt entirely unworthy of a man's love. When she looked in a mirror, all she saw was the scar gliding along her face. She didn't see anything else in her looks—only her scars, and she had many more besides the one on her face. After the Munich Massacre, she gained another one—this time on her neck, but that was the least of them. If America saw  _all_  of her scars, would he still care for her? Israel extremely doubted he would. Besides that, Israel remembered when Austria and Hungary's leaders drove them apart. They once were married, but now were divorced. Israel didn't wish to endure such a fate. Furthermore, she had various enemies, all of which hated America as much as they hated her, if not more. Surely, if they ever married, they would attempt to assassinate America. Israel didn't want to endanger anyone, especially not America.  
Because of all this, she cried. However, it all boiled down to one thing: the question of her beauty. If she thought she was lovely, she wouldn't be crying—no, she would be delighted that America loved her, she would be walking in the clouds, listening to the birdies sing, watching the flowers blossom—but she didn't think she was lovely. Yes, she would be nervous, she would have her fears, but if she thought she was worthy of love, she would gladly accept America's affections. Because she was terribly afraid that America would reject her after seeing her scars, she was afraid to let him close to herself. She was petrified of earning a man's affections to watch them fade away. Hence, when a man did reveal his heart to her, she wept.

Meanwhile, Judah was waiting for an answer.

"And?" Judah repeated, waiting for her response.

"I—I'm—not worthy of a man's affections. I'm not beau-ti-ful, I don't deserve compliments! Once America sees my scars, he's going—to—hate—me!" Israel sobbed, trying desperately hard to keep her voice steady, and failing.

Judah rested on the bed beside her and quietly asked, "Who told you that lie?"

"Everyone," Israel offered in a tiny voice.

"Not everyone," Judah corrected, "God says you're beautiful."

"God made me—he can call me whatever he wants!" Israel countered in a wail.

"Precisely—he declares you lovely," Judah agreed, hoping Israel would see the point. "It doesn't matter what anyone else says, if God says something—it is."

Israel stared at her brother, panting hard to keep the tears back.

Judah put his arm around his sister's shoulder, and implored her, "Israel, think back—when did you first think you were ugly?"

Israel thought for only a few moments when it came to her.

"It was a few months after our parents died. I was drinking from a stream when I saw my reflection—my first scar, my shaved head... Then something within me whispered, 'you will never be beautiful, you-will-always be ugly'. That's when it really started—not with Iraq insulting me, not with foreigners conquering me, no—it started when I was alone at that stream."

"I see…That's the lie," Judah acknowledged, his heart panging for his sister's grief.

"Judah, whether I am beautiful or not, I still cannot accept his love," Israel insisted.

"Why?" Judah probed calmly

"Because, we have so many enemies-he'll be killed if we get married! If that doesn't happen, then surely his boss will force us into a divorce, or some political nonsense will happen, and he'll turn against me! We can't be together!" Israel wailed, still speaking Modern Hebrew.

Judah not only heard what Israel's mouth was uttering, but also heard what her heart was uttering. He listened to her deepest emotions, read the feelings her eyes were betraying, and knew what she didn't tell him: Israel loved America. She loved him, whether or not she realized it. She yearned to be with him, but her heart scars kept her away from him in fear. Judah recognized all of this. Carefully, he thought of what to say before he spoke, more than he had before.

"Israel, our enemies already hate him. They cannot hate America any more than they already do," Judah pointed out as he pulled his sister close. He addressed her by her human pet name as he continued with, "Riyah, he genuinely loves you; he won't leave you over politics. Do not fear,"

"Tali, I fear; that is my problem-I'm  _terrified_ ," Israel whispered back, addressing him by his human pet name. She leaned on her brother's shoulder, trembling with sobs and anxiety.

"'Those who know your name trust you-for you,  _Adonai_ , never have forsaken those who seek you,'" Judah quoted.

"Psalms nine...verse eleven," Israel remembered, straightening slightly as she spoke.

"Riyah, God will never leave you; you have nothing to fear. Everything in this world is a speck compared to him. He is for you; who can survive against you? Don't you see? God will watch over you; it will be all right," Judah reminded her as he comfortingly rubbed her arm.

"I know...but I keep seeing the problem before me; what if...what if..what if something goes wrong?" Israel disclosed, snuggling closer to her brother.

"Riyah, it is not a sin for a man to love a woman...or a woman to love a man," Judah quietly encouraged her.

Israel straightened and stared at her brother in surprise. Judah nodded. Israel felt her heart jump as she stared at her brother's knowing face.

"You love him, Riyah; you cannot deny it," Judah declared in a whisper.

Israel blushed and turned away, knowing it was true.

"Tali, should I really love him, though? Think of all the opposition!" Israel moaned, feeling her throat tighten again.

"Perhaps it is meant to be," Judah pointed out to his sister tenderly. Israel gazed at him, feeling her emotions overwhelm her again.

After some more tears, Judah prayed for Israel, and managed to coax her downstairs. She apologized to America for yelling and rushing away so abruptly. Of course, he forgave her, and then asked her if he could…if he could court her. (In other words, he wanted to be in a relationship where they could see if it would be possible for them to get married one day.) After reading her brother's facial expression, Israel accepted.  
The first thing they did was reveal to each other their human names. America was Alfred Franklin Jones, Israel was Moriyah Beulah Tziyon, and Judah was Naftali Shalom Tziyon.  
There was something exciting and intimate about knowing each other's human identity. Usually, it was hidden—they only addressed each other by their country names like acquaintances, but now they were on a deeper level, knowing each other's secret identities…  
Indeed, Israel and America were in quite a romantic relationship.  
Over the next months, Israel threw down her emotional walls, and allowed herself to feel those things for America that she had suppressed before. Now, she realized how much she truly loved him…and now she knew how wonderful it felt to be loved in return. Her life headed in a new direction now.


	11. Chapter 10: The Eagle Cartwheels

**Chapter 10**

**The Eagle Cartwheels**

I am sure that you do not want to be bored with all the lovely romantic details of Israel and America's courtship, or all the great times they had, so I will skip all that…

After numerous months, America decided to propose. Although Israel and he had talked about what would happen  _if_  they got married during the last few months, America never officially asked her if she  _would_  marry him. Now, as they were hiking through the Greater Yellowstone area, America was constantly considering the question he desired to ask. He didn't merely want to ask her—he wanted the experience to be memorable, to be perfect...Of course, it was extraordinarily hard for him to find the ideal moment. Then came the day he proposed.

During one winter, America, Israel and Judah trekked through Yellowstone, carrying backpacks filled with supplies for the day, unaware of how cherished this hiking venture would become. Originally, America wanted to go somewhere warmer, but because Israel had only seen it in summer, she was curious to know what Yellowstone looked like in winter. Hence, they were in the Greater Yellowstone area, bundled up, admiring the chilly scenery.  
Unexpectedly, Israel discerned something. They were a few paces from a cliff's edge when Israel noticed it: two birds of prey falling through the sky together.

"What is that? What kind of birds are those?" Israel enquired while pointing at the birds.

Stepping close to Israel, America watched the birds, and recognized them within seconds.

"Hey! They're bald eagles! I can't believe it—bald eagles!" America piped up in excitement, trying to remember the last time he saw wild bald eagles.

"What are they doing? They're going to crash!" Israel exclaimed while watching the two eagles continue to tumble towards the ground.

"Oh, don't worry—they're cartwheeling," America casually explained with a wave of his hand, "They do this as part of their courtship thingies—they'll be fine."

For a few moments, Israel switched her puzzled gaze from America to the eagles, and back again. She studied the eagles with her binoculars. Sure enough, seconds before they crashed, the eagles separated, flew high into the sky, locked talons, and began tumbling towards the earth again. Realizing that America was right, Israel relaxed and lowered her binoculars as she watched in amazement. While they were eyeing the birds, America abruptly realized that if any moment was memorable, it was this one. Nervously, he looked at Judah for a second, to see if his eyes said anything.

Catching America's look, Judah tilted his head towards Israel as if he was saying, "Why not ask her  _now_?"

Taking a deep breath, America shifted his gaze to Israel. For a while, he didn't know what to say or how to start…especially since he was transfixed with the way light was hitting Israel's black hair.

Israel, meanwhile, was transfixed on the eagles. As America slowly took something out of the backpack he was carrying, Israel was meditating on the utter fearlessness those eagles seemed to display as they fell through the sky.

"If you think about it, it's almost as if they are saying, 'I trust you—do you trust me? Will you risk your life with me? Will you stay with me no matter what the danger?...Oh, if only people would remember how to trust each other in their relationships as these eagles trust each other in their cartwheels…" Israel slowly moralized, a solemn look in her eyes.

America nodded understandingly. For a few moments, nobody said anything.

Abruptly, America blurted out, "Israel, will you cartwheel with  _me_?"

Israel stared at him for a few moments, another bewildered look on her face. She thought he was referring to literally cartwheeling through the air—did he mean skydiving? Then Israel realized that America could be referring to cartwheeling in marriage.

"What?" Israel whispered with a blink, wondering if she actually heard him ask her  _that_  question.

Kneeling before Israel, America revealed the diamond ring he had hidden with him, and re-phrased his question with, "Israel, will you marry me?"

Israel's heart raced in excitement. She felt herself gasp as she stared at him, unable to process the scene before her while simultaneously wanting to leap in joy at what she witnessed.

Quietly, she nodded her head and murmured, "Yes!"

America quickly slipped the ring onto Israel's finger and did everything he could to avoid running around the entire world shouting in glee. Instead of leaping or running around in happiness, He beamed wider than he ever had, and thanked Israel numerous times for accepting him. Israel giggled as she listened to her new fiancé. Gently, Judah patted America on the back while he thought to himself,  _It's about time you proposed to her, America—I've been expecting this since the day you met her.…Take care of my sister._

Considering all he had survived, Judah felt a tear roll down one cheek at the thought of his beloved sister finally finding happiness with someone. Judah fulfilled his father's dying wish; he protected his sister, and now she would be safe, surely.  
That wintry day, in the Greater Yellowstone area, America and Israel officially became engaged to be married.

Meanwhile, as the three nations congratulated each other, the two eagles soared into the air again, and cartwheeled.  
Indeed, the eagle cartwheeled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks for reading this far!
> 
> The story isn't over yet, so don't stop reading!
> 
> Trust me, this is one ending you won't want to miss!  
> By the way, I want to know what you think, so please leave me a comment, okay? If you really didn't like this, please be nice about it, and tell me at least ONE THING YOU LIKED. Okay?
> 
> ~+~ PioneeringAuthor


	12. Chapter 11: The Opposition

**Chapter 11**

**The Opposition**

The day after Israel accepted America's proposal, the conflict began.  
Late at night, Palestine quietly slipped an envelope under one of the Israeli news headquarters, and silently walked away, making sure that no one saw him. He deeply hated America and Israel, and wanted to thwart their marriage. He couldn't stop America and Israel from becoming engaged, but he could ruin their joy...and possibly stop them from signing their  _Ketubah_  [Jewish marriage contract].  
Early the next morning, America awoke to the sound of his telephone ringing like a siren. Groggily, he picked up the receiver and asked who was calling.

"ALFRED! HAVE YOU SEEN THE NEWS YET?" Canada demanded, using his brother's human name as his words nearly crashed into each other in desperation.

"What? Is that you, Mattie? What *yawn*news?" America sleepily replied, rubbing one eye as he spoke and addressed his brother by his human pet name.

"Alfred—turn—on—the—TV—NOW! YOU NEED TO SEE THE NEWS!" Canada ordered his younger brother, clearly distressed.

America obeyed, wondering why his brother was so upset—Canada was usually the quiet one, not the desperate, loud, demanding one…then again, he  _did_  have a temper that burst out occasionally. This seemed to be one of those occasions when Canada's temper erupted…but why?

America curiously turned on the news. Within seconds, he was completely awake. The main news story shocked America beyond words. Someone somewhere somehow had discovered that there was a personification of the nation of Israel—and he or she knew Israel's name, where she lived, even what she did for a living. America could hardly breathe.  
Never before in the history of the world had a personification of a nation been revealed to the  _entire world_  through media. America had no idea what to think, to say, to do.

"Is it true—is her name really Moriyah?" Canada sputtered, hoping  _something_  on the news was a lie.

"…it's true…" America confirmed quietly, too dazed to say anything else on the matter.  
Israel and Judah confided their human names to America secretly, and in return, he gave them his name—knowing a country's human name was a serious honor, and now the entire world knew Israel's name. Surely, this would lead to trouble.

Of course, it did.

In the short time that followed, Israel was hounded with reporters and protestors.  
The press was also informed that Israel was marrying the personification of America, and also received  _his_  name and address; hence, America was also being mobbed by the paparazzi and anyone else who wanted a glimpse of the United States personified. Indeed, America's mob consisted of fans who wished to know him better, as well as those who hated Israel and wanted to stop his marriage.  
Unfortunately, Israel's mob mainly consisted of people angry with her.  
Many people mobbing Israel were mortified that their nation's personification was not only a  _woman_ , but a  _messianic Jew_ as well.  
Over the centuries, so many people claiming to be Christians—who really weren't—had harmed the Jews.  
Hence, anyone claiming that Yeshua (Jesus) was the  _Messiah_ , or that followed Yeshua in some way were viewed in a deeply negative way, to say the least. Some Jews were more tolerant, but overall, they distanced themselves from that belief.  
If Israel's life had been different, she would probably be like them—despising Yeshua, and leading an entirely diverse life. Now that all her people knew that she existed and that she was a Messianic, Israel found herself constantly being opposed. If someone wasn't insulting her or yelling at her or questioning her because of her beliefs, they were shouting at her and glaring at her and writing articles about her because of her beliefs and because she was engaged to a  _gentile_ , a GENTILE! In Judaism, if there was one forbidden, don't-ever-do-this-EVER-or-you-get-ostracized kind of thing, it was marrying outside the faith. (Note: anyone not Jewish is a Gentile.) Of course, in Israel's faith, marrying America was NOT marrying outside  _her_  faith because they believed the same basic things—there is a God, only one God, he is Yeshua, Yeshua is the Messiah, the anointed one, the savior of the world, there is no way to heaven but through him.  
Tragically, most people in Israel didn't accept that.  
Needless to say, there was much opposition for Israel. There were probably a hundred different reasons why people were angered that her brother and she were representing them. Of course, once the world knew there were personifications of Israel and the United States, people all over the world wanted to know if their nation had a personification…

Because of all that occurred, Germany felt that it was the prime moment for an emergency world meeting. A few days after Israel, Judah and America's identities were revealed to the modern world, all the nations gathered for a meeting.  
As usual, Germany was in charge, mainly to keep order.  
When everyone was settled, he opened the meeting. After laying out the rules of order, he began speaking.

"As you all know by now, Israel, Judah and America's human identities have been discovered. Although this may seem like a minor thing, this could reap deep consequences. Already there are those of our denizens who are curious to know if their nation has a personification. Before everything erupts into media chaos, I have called this meeting to decide what our response will be to this situation."  
Before Germany could finish his statement, he was rudely interrupted by England.

"What situation? Why are we even here? What's the point?" England burst out.

"ENGLAND! You did not raise your hand, nor were you recognized!" Germany objected to England's objection. Before he could finish that statement, he was interrupted with,

"But what's the point of this meeting? Yes, Israel and America have been discovered—your point is?" England fired back abruptly.

"Maybe if you would let Germany finish, we would all find out why we are here, you green-eyed, eyebrow monster!" France horned in, throwing at England whatever nonsensical insult popped into his mind.

"FRANCE! YOU WERE NOT RECOGNIZED EITHER!" Germany shouted, wishing  _someone_  would adhere to the rules besides himself.

As an obedient soldier and a fervent organizer, Germany couldn't tolerate his structured meetings tumbling into disarray. Of course, once France and England started arguing, it was challenging for them to stop, to say the least.

"Why does everyone insult my eyebrows? IS THAT ALL PEOPLE REMEMBER ABOUT ME?" England complained loudly.

"Well, it's hard not to notice, Mister I-don't-pluck-my-brows," France teased, pointing across the table at England.

"WOULD YOU STOP INSULTING ME, YOU FROG? WE ARE NOT HERE TO TALK ABOUT MY LOOKS! WE ARE HERE TO DISCUSS SOMETHING—GERMANY, what is it you are trying to say?" England turned away from France, almost too angry to think of any further insults for anyone.

"I WILL STOP INSULTING YOU WHEN I WANT!" France spat back.

"CEASE THIS IMMEDIATELY! YOU WILL ABIDE BY THE REGULATIONS, AND RAISE YOUR HAND TO BE RECOGNIZED TO SPEAK, OR LEAVE THE PREMISES!" Switzerland interjected, thoroughly sick of the constant fighting between France and England.

At Switzerland's outburst, the room fell silent. To say that a pin dropping in that silence would sound like a canon firing a metric ton of gunpowder was a vast understatement. After all, nobody wanted to test Switzerland—especially France.  
After a few moments of soundlessness, Germany cleared his throat and continued with,

"Thank-you, Switzerland, for restoring order. I would like to remind everyone that everyone needs to be recognized before he or she speaks—if you have something to say, raise your hand, and then I will call on you, understand? As I was saying…I was saying…OH! I FORGOT!" Germany stated, slapping his forehead fiercely.

At that moment, Italy raised his hand.

Opening one eye, Germany noted Italy and acknowledged, "Germany recognizes his friend, Northern Italy,"

Standing up, Italy reminded Germany, "Ve~ Germany, you were saying that we were supposed to be talking about our response to the situation."

"Oh…Yes, I was! Thank-you, Italy—for once, you were actually helpful!" Germany responded gratefully, lowering his hand as he spoke.

"You're welcome, Germany! By the way, when this is over, can we have pasta?" Italy asked hopefully.

Germany dropped his head into his hand in exasperation. "Can we discuss that after the meeting is  _over_?"

"All right," Italy conceded, settling down in his seat.

Germany straightened up, regained his composure, and then finished what he was trying to say earlier.

"As I was saying earlier, we have to discuss our response to this event. Clearly, we have at least two choices: we can do nothing, and allow our people to find us on their own, or we can reveal ourselves to the public."

At the thought of revealing their secret identities to the  _entire human world_ , all the nations gasped. Like a rushing wave, people all around the room stood up, shouting their objections 'till no one was heard over the din. Germany slammed his gavel onto the table until order was restored.

"Listen, it was a  _suggestion_ —I didn't say we  _had_ to reveal ourselves—it was only a possible reaction to America, Judah and Israel's discovery." Germany pointed out defensively.

A hundred hands shot up over the room, everyone desperate to have his voice heard. Overwhelmed at the numbers, Germany randomly picked a hand, acknowledging Switzerland.

"Why should we disclose ourselves to  _any_  human?" Switzerland protested as he stood up. "Furthermore, how shall this affect us? You make it sound as if it is a great calamity, but all it seems to be is media nonsense—surely we can handle that, correct?" After that, Switzerland reclined in his chair.

"I understand your point, Switzerland. I know it may seem insignificant, but this is the first time this has happened in all of history—we are not talking about a group of people, or even an entire nation knowing about their personification—this is the  _entire modernized world_ knowing! Moreover, the rest of the world is now searching for their representatives; eventually, they will find us. I do not think any of us know where this will lead, because this has  _never_  happened before. Right now, we have to plan for the future, starting with whether or not we will reveal ourselves to our people," Germany elucidated slowly, carefully choosing his words to present his view clearly.

Murmurs and whispers slunk around the table as people spoke to each other. The debate continued for hours. By the end of the meeting, everyone had thrown something into the conversation—even the shy countries piped up to have their say. That day, the nations left the building in deep thought.

In the end, all the countries' identities were revealed, and all had their fair share of media trouble, but none had the problems that Israel, Judah and America faced. Several people attempted to assassinate Israel—and failed, thankfully, failed. Nevertheless, Israel was in danger, and part of it was because she was marrying America—a  _Gentile_. America didn't know everything about Judaism or Jewish culture, but he knew that his blood was a huge problem to Israel in this situation…and he felt guilty for it. He wanted to be a hero, and all he did was endanger her. According to Israel's own laws, a Jew and a Gentile couldn't get married, and here they were, engaged. Indeed, it was a mess. Of course, Israel and America had been over this before, and had decided that they would get married at America's house, but it was still a big deal. Even though they would get married and live in the U.S. together in the future, they still had problems today. Considering the trouble he believed he caused, America approached Israel one day.

"Israel, I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused," America apologized to Israel.

"America, it's not your fault that someone tried to end my life," Israel insisted, reassuring him for the fifteenth time.

Israel, America and Judah were walking through a forest in Israel's house as they spoke. Birds sang happily while America mournfully contemplated all that occurred within the past few weeks.

"Israel, it is my fault, in a way...According to your own laws, we're not supposed to get married! It's no wonder that people hate you...it's all because of me," America countered in a moan.

"America, in the  _Torah_  there is a law against a Jewish woman marrying a non-Jewish man, but the  _Brit Chadasha_  also states that believers in Messiah are grafted into my people; you and I  _can_  be married. We both know this, America. Many of my people understand this...it's those who don't comprehend it that are making a fuss. It's not your fault; please don't blame yourself! If anyone is to blame it is me for accepting your proposal. Besides, there are a  _dozen_  other reasons why people are angered at me. Some Orthodox Jews are angry because I'm a Messianic or because I'm a woman, some Muslims are angry because I'm Jewish instead of Arab-America, the fact that I am marrying a  _Goy_  is the least of reasons why people are angry," Israel explained once again. [" _Goy_ " is the Hebrew word for Gentile. " _Goyim_ " is the plural form of " _Goy_ ". Sometimes, " _Goy_ " is used as an insult, if I recall.]

"I know, but...I still endangered you...I love you, Moriyah, and I don't want to see you get hurt..." America breathed sorrowfully. The next words out of his mouth were the hardest words he ever had to say: "Riyah, I think we should break up."

Israel froze in her tracks. Judah straightened up attentively. A breeze flowed past. Israel couldn't believe that America said those words to her. She felt as if her heart fell through an enormous felt as if she would faint.

Attempting to control her emotions, Israel stated, "No, Alfred, you can't."

"Moriyah, I don't want you getting hurt...Even if I am the least of your problems, at least you would have one less problem...please, let me leave you," America implored her as a tear streamed down his cheek.

Judah flipped his gaze from America to Israel, hardly comprehending that this conversation was taking place. Quickly, he started speaking to God silently.

_God, I know that you want them together, however, there is much opposition. I give this entire situation to you. Please, do whatever you must to work this out the way you want it to work out. Adonai, I know that you have perfect timing, however, I would suggest stepping in and doing something now, before we all panic._

With that, Judah patiently waited for his sister's answer.

Meanwhile, Israel contemplated her situation, and mulled over her answer, trying to keep calm. Then, she remembered her past.  
She had survived centuries of oppression, insults and pain—she would not let a tiny bit more ruin her future with the man she loved. Her identity was common knowledge now, and there was nothing she could do about it. Instead of becoming angry or fretful, she decided to overcome it. As she chose this, Israel felt her faith rise, and peace touch her heart.

Looking America directly in the eye, Israel declared, "Alfred Franklin Jones, I have endured more than words could ever say. I have witnessed my parents' death, I have survived Crusaders, conquerers, condemnation, torture, emotional pain, abuse, slander, insults, slavery, and wars. God has protected me and preserved my life all through that. He helped me win wars, he preserved my body, he touched my heart-if God protected me in the past, I know he will protect me in the future, because he never changes. I don't care what the press says anymore, because I know that one day all of this will fizzle out into a distant memory. If Yeshua doesn't come back soon, I know there will be a day when everyone thinks that I am a mere legend or myth. Alfred, I will not allow our present situation to prevent us from having a happy future together. I refuse your suggestion of breaking up our engagement; we had an agreement, and we shall adhere to that agreement...I love you."

America straightened up, breathing deeply. Realizing that Israel was right, America nodded his head slowly. He inhaled hard, trying not to burst into relieved tears. After a few moments, he admitted, "Riyah, I truly do want to marry you...if you'll have this doubting idiot to be your husband."

Israel lovingly smiled at him and replied with, "Alfred, everyone's an idiot compared to God. I will gladly have you-and, I would like to inform you that you are my  _hero_ , not my idiot."

With those words, America stood up perfectly straight and beamed at Israel. Judah smiled approvingly of them both, and silently thanked God for encouraging them all.

Hence, they continued the wedding plans. The opposition was to no avail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Reader, again, thank-you for reading up to this point!
> 
> The story is almost over, don't quit now!
> 
> By the way, this is what I think would happen. I'm not saying it is 100% accurate, but based on my knowledge of the culture and beliefs in Israel, I think this would happen. If you disagree, please don't flame me.
> 
> ~+~PioneeringAuthor


	13. Chapter 12: Weddings and Scars

**Ch. 12**

**Weddings and Scars**

It was the day of the wedding. Although she had been expecting it, Israel felt surprised and nervous when the day actually came. To her, it seemed as if she blinked her eyes, and her wedding was upon her. Everything prepared beforehand, there was nothing to do but wait for the guests, get dressed and somehow avoid dying of nervousness before the actual ceremony. Israel was truly surprised at how smoothly things rolled out for her. Of course, the press was trying to mob them for more details, but thankfully, Israel and her groom finally managed to slip away from them…at least, for this one day, anyway. In case you are wondering—yes, America was nervous as well, but his cheery side got the best of him and his worry turned into excited anticipation. While America was checking on final details of the decorations and seating, Judah was in charge of the door. He greeted the guests, instructed them on where to go, and secured the perimeter. After weeks, actually months counting the initial courtship, the day of the wedding FINALLY arrived.

Judah was walking around America's house in the State of Wyoming-the one place the press couldn't find them.  
He was checking everything from the decorations to the seats in the backyard where the final ceremony would take place.  
Currently, they had fifteen guests, and Judah made sure that they were comfortable.  
Walking down a hallway, Judah spotted a clock. Time was running short. There was only two hours left before the ceremony was scheduled to take place, not counting the initial signing of the  _Ketubah._

Walking down the corridor, Judah wondered where his sister was, and if she was dressed yet. Entering the atrium near the front door, Judah espied his sister taping some crepe paper to the underside of the mezzanine with America's assistance. She was still in her normal royal blue pleated skirt and long-sleeved white blouse. America was still wearing his normal jeans, T-shirt and brown leather jacket. Judah sighed in annoyance. He stepped over to his sister and lightly tapped her shoulder. Spinning around, Israel smiled at her brother and said, "Yes?"

"You need to get dressed," Judah reminded her gently.

"Oh, right-thanks for the help, Alfred," Israel acknowledged with a nod to her fiance`.

"You're welcome; I guess I better get ready too," America admitted.

Israel jogged away, dashed up the stairs, entered one of the bedrooms and located her dress while America went away to another room to get changed. Judah relaxed. Everything was coming along well. A few moments later, the doorbell rang. Judah opened the door and discovered it was Switzerland.

" _Shalom_ Switzerland!" Judah greeted as he side-hugged his best friend.

"Good-day, Judah. I would have arrived sooner, if I had found proper transportation sooner," Switzerland apologized as he side-hugged Judah back.

"Where's Liechtenstein?" Judah asked.

"Right here, Mr. Judah," Liechtenstein politely answered as she entered the door behind her brother. She was carrying a large, soft gift wrapped in blue paper.

"Where should I put my wedding gift?" Liechtenstein asked as Judah closed the door behind her.

Judah pointed down the hallway as he answered, "Through there, on the right, is a large table."

"Thank-you," Liechtenstein politely nodded as she walked away.

"So, where are they going for the honeymoon?" Switzerland inquired.

"Alaska," Judah replied.

"And that would be where?" Switzerland probed.

"Beside Canada," Judah elucidated.

"Who?" Switzerland asked.

"Near the north pole," Judah elucidated, not mentioning that Canada would soon be his brother-in-law.

"THE NORTH POLE? I thought Israel couldn't abide cold weather-did America force her into this?" Switzerland objected in shock.

"America and I attempted to persuade her to go elsewhere, but Israel insisted. Since she has seen every part of America's house  _except_  for Alaska, she is determined to honeymoon there," Judah explained calmly.

"I fail to see her logic, but it is  _her_  honeymoon, not mine," Switzerland relented with a puzzled expression. He failed to see how romantic a frigid environment would be for them.

"She feels that, if she is cold while there, she can gather warmth in America's arms," Judah enlightened Switzerland.

"Ah...I see," Switzerland replied as everything became logical for him. He started to think that, perhaps, a frigid honeymoon  _would_  be romantic. "Well, I suppose that Liechten has made the proper present for them."

Judah raised an eyebrow at this statement.

"Oh, I wasn't suppose to mention it...but I suppose it is a bit obvious...Liechtenstein sewed a thick, beautiful quilt for the bride and groom," Switzerland disclosed with a twinge of guilt.

Judah nodded understandingly.

"The guests are gathering through there," Judah informed Switzerland as he pointed down the hallway.

"Ah, yes, thank-you," Switzerland acknowledged with a nod as he walked away.

The doorbell rang again; it was the Italy brothers.

"Ve~, Judah, I'm here! Are there any pretty girls here yet?" Italy asked excitedly.

"Brother, we are here for Israel's wedding, not so you can flirt all day long!" Romano grumbled at his brother, attempting to keep his temper under control.

"I know, but pretty girls always make the day more interesting," Italy justified. With one hand, he held a present, and with the other he smoothed his brown hair.

" _Shalom_ , Italy, Romano-the guests and presents are through there, " Judah pointed down the hallway, attempting to change the subject to avoid any tension.

Italy trotted away while his brother grumbled along behind him.

"Can you believe our old babysitter is getting married?" Italy exclaimed excitedly to Romano.

"Of course I can believe it! That was over a thousand years ago!" Romano bluntly replied, hiding how amazed he was at the thought of his former nanny getting married.

As the brothers walked down the hallway, Judah wondered what it would be like if  _he_  had a brother.

The next guest to arrive was India.

"I'm so sorry I didn't arrive sooner! Am I late? Please, tell me I'm not too late! I would be a horrible best friend if I was late for my best friend's wedding! Please, Judah! Say I'm not late!" India implored him, her words tumbling out like a waterfall.

" _Shalom_ , you're early," Judah replied casually as he gently shut the door.

"I am? Oh, how wonderful! I'm not the world's worst best friend after all! Where's Israel? Where's America? Can I be of assistance?" India inquired swiftly.

"They are preparing-Israel is up there, if you wish to help her," Judah slowly answered, pointing to where Israel was.

"Oh, wonderful! I'll go see what I can do for her!" India declared as she dashed away. Before she reached the top of the stairs, she stopped, turned around, and hopped back down.

"Where do I put my gift?" India asked quickly.

Judah walked over and held out his hands.  
"Oh, thank-you ever so much! You were always a nice, helpful man!" India applauded Judah as she handed him a box. Instantly, she turned and sprinted up the stairs to where Israel was.

Judah sighed in amusement, wondering if India would ever be quiet.

Meanwhile, Israel was straightening out the folds on her dress. As she looked at herself in the mirror, a strange sickness came over her. Suddenly, she heard a knock at her door, and found it was her best friend.

"INDIA!" Israel exclaimed. As she hugged India, Israel felt her sickness subside.

"Israel! I'm sorry I didn't come sooner-my flight was delayed! May I help?" India said happily and apologetically.

"Oh, don't be upset! You're right on time...but...I don't know what you can help with...Actually, I'm not sure what to do with my hair," Israel suggested.

"Oh! I know what to do! Oh, oh-may I put flowers in it?" India asked in a bubbly voice.

Soon, Israel's hair was braided, with tiny white henna blossoms scattered throughout. Looking in the mirror again, Israel admired the way the white flowers contrasted against her black hair and tan skin. As she thought about what America would think of her, she eyed her scar, and the sickening feeling hit her again. What would America think of her if he saw  _all_  of her scars? Suddenly, fear struck her heart. She began to hyperventilate.

"What's wrong?" India probed fretfully.

"I-I-I feel...I feel sick," Israel groaned, sitting down on the bed behind her.

India's brown eyes locked with Israel's blue ones, for a few moments before Israel rested her head in her tan hands. India recognized the fear in Israel's eyes.

As anxiety built in India's heart, she sat beside Israel, placed her hand on Israel's shoulder and gently declared, "Moriyah, everything is going to be fine."

"Jaya, I'm scared-what-what if he-" Before Israel could finish uttering her fears, India butted in with, "Moriyah, he loves you! He won't leave you!"

Gazing at India hopefully, Israel whispered, "But...I'm so scarred, Jaya...would he love me after he knew my scars?"

"Yes, he would. I know him fairly well-he won't leave you," India firmly assured Israel.

"All right...I'm beginning to feel better..."Israel conceded, feeling the sickness pass, and her fears subside.

Meanwhile, Judah was still ushering people through the door.  
Suddenly, an unexpected guest arrived: Egypt. Judah silently locked eyes with his first cousin.  
The  _Yom Kippur_  war was still fresh in their minds. Neither wanted to fight each other, yet their leaders threw them into that war. Thankfully, it was over. Nevertheless, it still happened. Judah nearly killed Egypt—he didn't wish to, and they both knew it, but it still happened. If the UN hadn't meddled in their affairs, Egypt would've been killed…possibly. Of course, that didn't happen, and they were both grateful for that…however, there was still an awkward, insurmountable wall between them. Would it finally come down? Would the two cousins finally speak without worrying about politics? Would they ever be a true family?  
Well…let's see…

Awkwardly, Egypt shuffled his feet and timidly addressed Judah with, "You said everyone was invited to the wedding…that does include me, right?"

Slowly, Judah nodded, and gently smiled.

Egypt relaxed slightly and continued with, "I didn't know what to bring as a gift—so I brought a warm blanket…I figured they would use it eventually…"

Judah carefully wrapped the blanket around one arm and nodded again.

" _Shalom_ , Cousin," Judah greeted.

With his free hand, he ushered Egypt into the house.

Stepping over the threshold, Egypt quietly apologized, "I'm sorry for the  _Yom Kippur_  War—I don't want to fight you, I want to live in peace, but it seems I always have someone against you…I wish we could be a family, and not enemies."

For a few moments, Judah and Egypt studied each other. With an understanding look in his eye, Judah hugged Egypt. At first, Egypt stiffened, being unsure of what to do next.

Then Judah whispered, "One day we will be a true family, not warring relatives."

After that, Judah pulled away and noted the longing in Egypt's eyes. The two cousins smiled at each other. A few moments later, Judah escorted Egypt to one of the chairs arranged outside, where the other guests had moved in anticipation.  
Although their bosses were against each other, they knew that they were  _for_  each other, as cousins who wanted to be cousins. Egypt, a surprise guest, was the only middle-eastern nation attending that day besides those who represented Israel.

Quickly time passed, and Israel and America came together to sign their  _ketubah_.

They were in a small office with Judah and Canada as witnesses (yes, they noticed Canada) along with the Rabbi who was performing the ceremony (yes, they're having a Jewish wedding). America signed the ornate paper in his best signature. Israel picked up the pen, but before she signed, the wounds on her heart lashed out at her.  _What are you doing? Don't you see how foolish this is? Once he sees what you look like beneath that dress, he's going to be disgusted by you! Sure, he cares for you, but men want attractive women, and you have more than a tiger has stripes! When America sees your true figure, he'll leave you with a note saying he changed his mind, that he's not ready for marriage, or some other nonsense! You'll be an_ agunah _-_ _a '_ _chained' woman! You'll be without a husband, and without the ability of getting a divorce! Do you want that? You should leave immediately, before disaster befalls you!_

As these thoughts flooded Israel's mind, she felt her heart race in terror. Her hand slightly trembled as she held the pen close to the paper, unable to move. Sweat beaded on her forehead.  
America became nervous as he wondered why Israel wasn't signing.  
Across the room, Canada shot Judah a look that whispered,"Uhm...Judah...something's wrong...what's happening?"

Judah looked back at Canada, then shifted his gaze back to Israel. He knew what she was thinking, he simply knew it. Silently, Judah prayed,

 _God, something is hindering Israel from signing-please, whatever it is, if it is not of you, stop it! She has lived in fear too long,_ Adonai- _Please don't let fear control her anymore! This is a day of happiness...please, do something!_

As Israel pondered whether to sign, another thought entered into her mind.

_Don't listen to that lie! This is your joyous moment, those thoughts are lies trying to rob you of your future. You are beautiful, and America knows it._

Peace descended on Israel as she heard those words inwardly. In a quick sweep of her pen, she signed the  _ketubah_  in her best handwriting.

That day, Israel and America were married. Finally, they were together. They both knew they would have troubles in the future—wars, rumors of wars, bosses who weren't totally pro-Israel, insults, paparazzi mobs, possibly even random rabid rabbits attacking them for no reason—but they were willing to face it all, with God's help. They chose to forgive each other, and continue loving each other, even if they didn't feel like it. When they married, they honestly married for better or for worse. When they placed rings on each other's fingers, America and Israel remembered those strange feelings they had when they met, those foreshadows of one day being married…it seemed that they were right. Indeed, they married, at last.

Although Israel was overjoyed at her wedding, the scars on her heart still stirred within her, gnawing at her, insisting that America would loathe her once he observed the full extent of her physical scars. Yes, Israel told him about her scars, but she never  _showed_  them—that would be immodest, and Israel was a moral woman.  
In fact, she sometimes wondered if it was right to mention the scar on her chest to America…she didn't go into any details, but something pestered her about it. Now that she married him, he would know everything about her—she couldn't keep any secrets from him. The emotional scars on her heart whispered that her physical scars would ruin her marriage before it flowered—was it true?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Reader,  
>  you are almost finished!
> 
> All that's left is the epilogue; please read it!
> 
> Also, in Judaism and Israel, an Agunah is a woman who is "chained" in marriage, unable to get a divorce. Usually, this occurs in Israel when a woman is married to a soldier who has gone missing in action.
> 
> By the way, A ketubah is a Jewish wedding contract. A ketubah is given to the bride for safekeeping, and is traditionally highly artistic.
> 
> Also, Shalom is used as a greeting in Israel. Although it is generally translated as "peace", Shalom actually means quite a bit more than that. Basically, Shalom is the ultimate blessing wrapped up in one word...and that's how people greet each other in Hebrew. Isn't that wonderful?
> 
> Keep reading!
> 
> Shalom,
> 
> PioneeringAuthor ~+~
> 
> P.S. Special thanks to Eisceire on Fan Fiction for reminding me about the word "mezzanine."


	14. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the story. The last paragraph was the first thing I wrote in this story, actually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Reader,
> 
> Here's the beautiful ending I promised you.
> 
> Enjoy,
> 
> ~+~PioneeringAuthor

**Epilogue**

Israel gazed out the window, admiring the beautiful landscape. She watched birds and other animals frolic in the distance. She thumbed the wedding ring on her finger and recounted the wedding of the day before. She smiled to herself gently. As she stood there, she considered her husband—yes,  _husband._  It still sounded peculiar to say that word in her mind. When she became used to calling him "fiancé", she suddenly became his wife and he became her husband. Now she had to get used to an entirely  _different_  title for her beloved. Eyeing her ring fondly, Israel thought of all the times America cared for her, comforted her, and complemented her. She smiled affectionately at the memories.

Then she remembered: she showed him her scars last night. Her smile faded painfully. Surely, now there would be no more complements. Now he personally knew every scar she had from the ones on her back, to the one indented on her chest.  
Surely, now he would never approve of her again.

Depressed at the thought, Israel sighed and eyed her feet. She told herself that she didn't care and that she would be fine without being called "beautiful," but everything moaned within her. Truthfully, she wanted her husband to love her, and to deem her absolutely stunning. She wanted him to look at her with admiration and adoration, not disgust or discomfort. Miserably, Israel felt that now she would never get that ardor America used to show her with his eyes—the kind that said, "Hello, lovely girl!"

While she mourned her future, Israel failed to hear the footsteps behind her. Suddenly, she felt a soft hand on her shoulder. Turning to spot what was behind her, she saw her beloved Alfred, and relaxed instantly.

" _Boker Tov_ ," Israel greeted him with a tiny grin. [" _Boker Tov"_ means "good morning" in Modern Hebrew.]

" _Boker Or_ ," America answered with his usual, broad smile.

Hearing her husband say something in Hebrew, Israel smiled broader, and her heart skipped a beat in happiness. [" _Boker Or_ " means "morning light" in Modern Hebrew. Some people use this phrase as a response to " _Boker Tov."_ ]

Gently, America ran his fingers through Israel's hair with one hand while he pulled her closer with the other. For a few moments, he stood there, kissing her. Then he did something that would shift her life forever:

He whispered in her ear, "You are the most beautiful woman in the world."

When Israel heard those words, tears slowly rolled down her cheeks. Gently brushing away the tears on Israel's face, America smiled at his wife in a loving, reassuring way. Israel beamed back at him. For the first time in ages, she believed, entirely believed, that she was beautiful. In fact, she never again doubted that she was beautiful. Peace filled her up. After years of pain and insecurity, the wounds on her heart had fully healed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Reader,
> 
> Thank-you for reading!
> 
> May the wounds on your heart be fully healed as you read this.
> 
> Shalom,
> 
> PioneeringAuthor~+~
> 
> P.S. I have more works posted on Fan Fiction . net.
> 
> P.P.S. Please write me a review and tell me what you think.
> 
> P.P.P.S. If you want to know more about the characters or want deeper details in the story, please read the expanded version I am making, Healing Wounds: Extras. It is being worked on in Fan Fiction . net.
> 
> THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Again, fans of Ancient Rome, I had to be accurate to history in this story, please do not be angry with me for making him slaughter Israel's parents! Besides, wasn't Germany afraid to meet Italy because his grandfather was Rome? If that is true, then surely Rome must have done SOMETHING to strike fear into people, correct? Again, thank-you for reading, this is my first written fan fiction, possibly my last, I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> If you are interested in the historical facts, here they are:
> 
> Approximately 135 AD: Third Jewish revolt results in Rome crushing the Jews again, and Israel is re-named Syria Palestina. Hadrian prohibits Torah, Hebrew calendar, executes Jewish scholars, and kills most of the Jewish population. Sacred scrolls were burned by Hadrian, Jews allowed in Jerusalem, their holy city, on only one day of the year-Tisha b'av.  
> (For those of you who are annoyed that I didn't shorten 'Bar Kokhba' to 'Kokhba', I will gladly inform you that I cannot. In Hebrew, Bar/Ben means "son of", and those words were often used as part of a kind of surname-David whose father was Jared would be known as David Ben Jared or David Bar Jared. In other words, 'Bar Kokhba' is like saying 'Kokhba Jr'. I cannot say 'Kokhba' because he is not Kokhba, he is Bar Kokhba.)
> 
> On another topic, in ancient Rome, it was customary to shave the heads of slaves, as well as openly humiliate those who were recently conquered. Hence, Israel and Judah were shaved.
> 
> Approximately 700's AD onward: Islamic nations conquer Israel, oppressing Jews and Christians.
> 
> 1095–1291 AD: Crusades: "Christians" war with Islam in Israel. Crusaders capture Jerusalem for a short time in 1099. Sadly, they murder Jews and Arabs throughout Europe and the Middle East.  
> (This is probably one of the deepest wounds between Christians and Jews/Muslims to this day.)
> 
> 1187 AD: Saladin captures Jerusalem and summons the Jews, permitting them to move into the city.
> 
> 1516 AD: Ottomans conquer Israel and re-name it "Mandatory Palestine".
> 
> This is not everything that happened in history. There are other things that occurred to Jews and other people around the world, but I chose to present the facts I actually used in my story.
> 
> By the way, the blessings, "May you be like Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel and like Leah," and, "May you be like Ephraim and Manasseh," are two blessings commonly used in Jewish homes for children.
> 
> Thank-you for reading this far!
> 
> Please, continue reading the story!
> 
> Trust me, after reading that beginning, you need to read the ending. Of course, it will make sense only if you read everything.
> 
> In case you missed my note, please be kind in all reviews and keep all reviews K rated, thank-you!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I AM NOT A HISTORIAN, I AM MERELY SOMEONE WHO APPRECIATES HISTORY. I AM STILL LEARNING. I APOLOGIZE FOR ANY HISTORICAL INACCURACIES IN THIS STORY. HETALIA ITSELF HAS HISTORICAL INACCURACIES, SO MY STORY SHOULD BE ACCEPTABLE. PLEASE BE KIND AND FORGIVING. MOREOVER, I DO NOT OWN HETALIA, SO PLEASE FORGIVE ANY INACCURACIES TO CHARACTERS. I AM PUTTING THIS IN ALL CAPS SO THAT YOU WILL ACTUALLY NOTICE IT AND NOT SKIP OVER IT.
> 
> FURTHERMORE: Judea is figuratively the son of Jacob. Not litterally.
> 
> One last thing: Iraq is pronounced EE-rock, and some of my paragraphs are longer than others, please accept it. I have already redone many paragraphs in this story.
> 
> ~+~ PioneeringAuthor~+~
> 
> P.S. This was originally posted on Fan Fiction . Net. See it there if you can't find the ending here. I am moving so I may not be able to update soon.


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